Sex, Secrets, and Videotape
by TheGingerNextDoor
Summary: A case in Las Vegas brings to light some secrets for Reid. Yes, yet another Reid fic. T for now, may be an M later...
1. Chapter 1

Sex, Secrets, and Videotape

Chapter 1-Sins of the Father

Home of William and Elizabeth Reid

Somewhere in Las Vegas

A random Saturday

Lizzie's POV

I woke up this morning to the sounds of Dad leaving. I glance at my alarm clock, and notice it's already 10 am. He's leaving late; on Saturdays before a big case, he is usually in the office by 7. I climb out of bed, wincing at the chill-I forgot to turn off the a/c last night. I shrug into my robe and slip on my bunny slippers and head to the kitchen to see if there's any coffee left.

As I pour myself a mug of the steaming liquid, and fix it up how I like it-plenty of milk and two sugars-I review the shopping list that Daddy had left. We don't need much, and I decide to do the grocery shopping after I meet up with my friends. I pop some bread in the toaster, and pad back to my room.

I pull on some jeans and my Twilight shirt, and take in my reflection in the full-length mirror that Dad let me buy last year when my mother got married and sent me to live with him full time. I decide to let my brown hair just be for now since I am going to get a haircut later. I finish dressing, selecting my brown boots and my purple cardigan, and I put on a bit of makeup. I return to the kitchen to retrieve my toast, and sit at the table. From somewhere, my cat Mouse wanders in, and as I stand to feed him, I notice we have a voicemail. I press play as I grab Mouse's food from the pantry, and listen as my father's secretary relays a message.

"Mr. Reid, you received a phone call yesterday from a Dr. Fisher-"

I save the message. I will tell Dad to check the message when I see him tonight. IF he doesn't work all night.

I sigh deeply as the cat pushes past me to eat his kibble, and I head back to my room. I turn on my computer and find my phone in my purse. I text my girlfriend Reagan and tell her I will meet her at the Galleria in an hour. We have to start looking for Homecoming dresses, as this year, I am nominated for Queen and she is on the Homecoming committee.

I quickly e-mail Daddy, telling him I will be gone all day, and then I finish some math homework before leaving. I check my phone again before pulling out of the driveway and frown when I realize that Reagan hadn't replied yet. Oh, well. Sometimes she forgets to charge her phone, but we talked about shopping today at school yesterday, and I am sure she remembered. I take a moment to phone her at home, and I have to leave a message on her parent's voicemail.

I remember then that her little brother has piano practice on Saturdays, and since her stepfather is a firefighter, he's likely on duty. I shrug, and head out for the Galleria, sure that Reagan will catch one of my messages. I decide to text my friend April instead. I actually don't like April that much, she's more of Reagan's friend-they are both cheerleaders, and I am not-I play basketball and I am on the debate team-but the girl has decent taste and I need a second opinion on the dress I'd put on hold a few days ago. The dance is Friday night, less than one week away, and I really wanted to look unique and special.

She texts back that she cannot make it, and so, in desperation, I call a girl from the Debate team who agrees to meet me at the Pretzel place in fifteen minutes. I go in and order a stuffed pretzel with cheese, and a bottle of water, and I wait. A little while later, I see the girl, Megan, enter the pretzel shop. I wave, and she smiles. I wait as she buys her food, and then we decide to eat before we shop. We sit in silence, and after a moment, I try to make small talk.

"So, Meg. How did you do at the tournament?" This is a dumb question, as I am the captain, and I've already seen her score, and know that she placed second, but I ask anyway, because I don't really know much about her. She smiles lightly.

"Didn't you hear? I placed second." I decide to tell her a white lie, what could it hurt? I shake my head.

"No, Mr. Donaldson wouldn't allow me to see the scores. I will see them at practice on Monday." She nods.

"Let me know how I did." I nod, and reply.

"Of course. Are you ready?" She nods, and we head out to do our shop. I take her to the boutique where I have the dress I like on hold. I try it on and show her. We go to a private school, and unlike the local public schools, we have a dress code for our homecoming ball, and this dress is both cute and modest. It has an empire waist, but it's sleeveless, and made of white tulle. There are rhinestone beads along the waistline, and a full ball skirt.

I spin lightly as Megan gasps, and I smile. She starts to gush.

"Geez, Lizzy. You look great. Definitely like a homecoming queen." I nod, pleased.

"But should I buy it or should I look around some more? I want to make sure my dress is one of a kind." Meg shakes her head.

"Buy it now. Then, if we find something else that's really spectacular, you can return it." I nod, it's a great idea.

"Good idea. Thanks." I make the purchase, praying that Daddy won't be too mad when he gets the credit card bill, but he DID say I could get what I wanted, within reason. The dress was under $100, but I still needed some shoes. I am going to pay for my own hair and manicure, and any accessories I don't already have. I work three days a week at the Falafel Hut by the Hilton.

We wander around the mall for an hour, and then Meg says she has to leave. I take some time to check my phone again, noticing that Reagan still hasn't gotten back to me. I send her another text message, this time joking about the Val party that Reagan had attended last night, which I couldn't go to because of work.

"r u hangover? Call me, girl."

I sigh, and put my phone back in my purse and climb into the car to get my hair done. An hour later, I leave the salon, still not having heard from Reagan, so I drive by her house, since it's on the way to the store. All the lights are off, and her mother's car is not in the drive, and neither is Reagan's. I shrug, and head to the store to finish the shop, pulling Dad's list out of my pocket.

I complete the list, crossing things off as I go, sure to check the prices and coupons to save some money, which Dad probably doesn't notice, but at least I tried, right? As I put some bread into the cart, and try to decide what I will make for dinner that night, my phone rings. It is Daddy, and I answer it immediately, as I know that he hates the cell phone and will only call if it's important.

"Hi, Dad."

"Elizabeth, where are you?"

"I am at the grocery store."

"As soon as you finish, I need you to come immediately home. Do not make any extra stops. Do you understand?" I nod, noticing that his voice sounds odd, perhaps slightly panicked. So I decide that we can just order in tonight, and check out quickly, and rush home.

As I pull into the driveway, I can see Reagan's mom's car parked out front, and a police cruiser, as well. This is odd, and I carry the bags into the house, and am greeted by quiet sobbing. I call out, as I am in the kitchen and cannot see into the living room.

"Dad? Mrs. Morris? Why are the police here?" Dad's voice calls me into the other room.

"Elizabeth? Please leave the groceries, and come in the living room." I drop the bags to the floor, and walk quietly into the room. I notice that Mrs. Morris is crying, and Daddy appears upset. I stand, but Daddy indicates the end of the sofa. It is a moment before anyone speaks. Just then, the police officer opens his mouth.

"Ms. Reid? I am Detective Darryl Ford, Las Vegas Metro Police." I nod once.

"It's nice to meet you." He nods once, also, but continues.

"Ms. Reid, I came by to deliver some bad news. Your friend Reagan Morris was found dead this morning in the field behind the high school." Suddenly, my body feels as though someone has punched me hard in the stomach, and I bring my hand to my mouth in horror. I stutter when I reply, and Mrs. Morris cries again.

"What? How?"

"We believe it was late last night. Do you know anything about a party?" I nod, but glance at Dad, and bite my lip. He speaks to me.

"Liz, please answer the detective." I sigh, but reply.

"Yes. There was a party last night at Brock Davidson's house. Reagan was going with some of the other cheerleaders. I had been invited, but I couldn't go because I had to work. I work at the Falafel Hut on Tropicana and 13th." The police officer sighs.

"I understand. Thank you, that's helpful." I nod, feeling a little dizzy, and I take a deep inhale. Dad notices this, I think, because he excuses me to my room. I hurry down the hall, and shut my door, tossing myself on the bed to cry. I don't remember falling asleep, but I do remember Dad coming in and covering me up.

The next morning, it is quiet again, and as I stumble into the kitchen for coffee, I am surprised to see Daddy sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by papers, photographs, and files. I remain silent while I pour my coffee. He clears his throat and speaks to me through a newspaper clipping.

"Sit down, please, Elizabeth. I want to talk to you." I sit across from him, feeling awkward, as we don't usually spend the mornings together. He sighs, and puts his newspaper aside.

"Sorry. Work stuff. I wanted to speak with you about your little friend. Mr. and Mrs. Morris phoned late last night, and they will be having a small memorial ceremony later this week. You may attend if you wish; I know your grades are fine. Secondly, there seems to be a rash of murders against young women, and I would appreciate it if you take extra precautions to be safe. That means no more going to the Galleria alone, no more late night coffee runs, and if you must work late, I would like a male coworker to be there with you. I will call your boss, if you like, and explain it to him." I shake my head.

"That's not necessary. Thank you." He nods. I sigh, and he continues.

"How often do you go to these Val parties?" I shrug, feeling busted.

"I've been to a few. Mostly, it's the jocks who go, and I am not into that scene. I don't know, Mom was cool with it. Until she met Dan, that is. He wasn't too keen on my partying. He said it was encouraging teenagers to act stupidly. Even though I never did. I hardly ever drank at them, and if I did, I called Mom to pick me up. I haven't been to a party since I moved here, though." He sighs.

"I didn't know your mother was allowing you to do that, and if I had known, you certainly would not have been permitted to do so. But I am glad you realize that that kind of behavior is not accepted in this household." I nod again, as he speaks some more.

"Finally, I am going to be spending the morning with Diana; something is going on with our son, and I'd like to discuss it with her. Please make sure the doors are locked and all the windows are secured. If you leave, please phone me." I nod, and speak.

"Is he alright? Spencer, I mean." Dad shrugs.

"I think so. I understand that it is a medical problem, but I am unsure as to what that entails." I consider, but nod again, feeling like an idiot.

"Well, I don't think I will go anywhere. I have homework, and a speech to write." He nods, satisfied.

"Great. Thank you." He stands, gathers the papers that are littering the table and hurries towards his office. I stand, too, and head for my room. I settle myself onto the bed and close my eyes.

I fall asleep for a few hours, dreaming of Reagan and me at the Homecoming game, hearing our names announced as co-Queens because, of course, there was a tie. I flash to winter break; we were planning on spending it together skiing in Tahoe. I flash forward to our final semester as Seniors; prom, the Spring musical, and softball season, all snatched away from us. I will have to do these alone. Or not at all. The pain is beginning to seep in-when my mother sent me to live full time with my father, Reagan was the first and only person I told outside of my family until the actual move. She and I grew up in the same neighborhood, and while she had gone to the local private school her whole life, Mom enrolled me in the public school. It was Dad who pulled me out of public school when I started junior High-he said it wasn't challenging enough, and he was right. Reagan and I were fast friends and good friends-she, too, came from a broken home, and could kind of understand my home life, albeit her parents were actually married once and co-parented most of her life, while my parents were never married, and in fact, Mom was a neighbor of Dad's and his first family, until some kind of accident happened, and they turned to each other for support, at least, according to my mother.

I wake and look at the clock-it's 11:30 PM, and I turn off my desk lamp and put on my pjs and fall back to sleep.

0900 Hours

FBI HQ

Quantico, VA

The team sat in the meeting room, exchanging their usual weekday greetings and waiting for JJ and Hotch to present the newest cases. Spencer sat reading the last few pages of his novel, but put it away as Hotch entered, followed by JJ, who turned on the projector and caused images of young, bloodied women.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope you all had a good, relaxing weekend. I'll let JJ take over now." JJ nods as Hotch settles in at the table, and began to address the group.

"These photos are crime scenes from a series of murders in Las Vegas. The unsub seems to be targeting teenaged girls. The most recent victim is an 18 year old woman by the name of Reagan Morris. The other two are Rebecca De La Garza, 17. and the first girl was the youngest so far, Brittany Walker, who was 16. Vegas PD has gathered that the only thing these girls have in common is that they are all cheerleaders, and attend two of the local high schools. All three appear to have also suffered post-mortem sexual assault."

"Really, post-mortem sexual assault? That's kind of rare, isn't it?" inquired Seaver.

"Yeah. It usually indicates a sexual sadist with tendencies towards necrophilia. But it's usually seen in adults. 65% of necrophilia occurs because the offender believes that they are reconnecting with a former lover or someone they hoped to have a relationship with, and were jilted by. Occasionally, it can be an opportunistic crime, and is 98% prevalent among men between the ages of 81 and 27. By then, they are usually in prison, as the perpetrators are usually not careful. It's purely a power-driven sexual deviation, although there are some fetishists, and those who simply fantasize about it," came Spencer's reply.

The others shrugged, and Hotch continues.

"Thanks, Reid. Ok, people. Get your go bags, and let's all plan to leave in an hour. Dr. Reid, I'd like to see you for a moment." Spencer nods, and follows his boss to the man's office, settling into the visitor's chair the man indicated. He waited for Hotch to speak.

"Will you be OK going with us to Vegas?" Spencer considers.

"I think so. My father and I have said what we will say, and I will see my mom only if we have some downtime." Hotch nods.

"Ok. I will allow you to come along, but I need to tell you that Strauss is watching again since Prentiss, and if there's anything not on the up-and-up, I will be required to tell her." Spencer sighs.

"I understand. I can handle it."

"Ok. We leave in an hour."

"I'll be ready." Hotch excuses him and Spencer stands and leaves the building, hurrying home.

0900 Hours

Las Vegas Day School

Las Vegas, NV

Lizzie's POV

As I enter the school, several people approach me to tell me how sorry they are to hear about Reagan. I smile and nod, and struggle not to fall apart. As I make my way to homeroom, I hear an announcement on the PA system that grief counselors will be on hand if anyone needs to talk. I will check this out at lunch, as I know that Dad is worried, because he phoned my mother, who emailed me and said she could come out immediately if I needed her to.

I told her that wasn't necessary, but now I am not so sure.

I sigh, and settle into my desk, preparing myself for what is sure to be the longest day of my life.

1600 Hours

Las Vegas Police Dep't.

Las Vegas, NV

The team settles around a meeting room for a final briefing with the detectives they will work with. Hotch and JJ give the briefing, and they are all excused for the evening. The agents head for the hotel where they are staying, and agree on dinner at the restaurant in the lobby. As they change clothes, clean up and meet downstairs, a phone call to Hotch interrupts their easy evening.

"It's Garcia. Hey, Garcia. I'm here with the others." He put the phone on speaker so the girl could be heard by everyone.

"Hola, muchachos. I just got word that there has been another murder. You should be hearing from the police captain soon, but I wanted to give you the heads up. It's all over the news. They're calling the unsub the Heartthrob Slayer, because all of the victims are teenaged girls. And rumors abound that the unsub is the star Quarterback." The others exchange looks-it was never a good sign when the local media started nicknaming killers.

"Thanks, Garcia." They hang up and Hotch speaks to the group.

"I'll phone the Captain. Please, sit down and eat. Enjoy yourselves; we have a busy day tomorrow." The others nod quietly, but gather around a table as a waiter appears to take their drink orders. They all sit around, chatting lightly about the case, and awaiting Hotch's news. He returns after a few minutes from around a corner he'd ducked into to make the call.

"Captain says he won't need us until tomorrow. His detectives are there now. It's another teenaged girl, her name is Amina Karshani. Her father owns a Falafel restaurant in town. She's 17, and goes to the same private school as Reagan Morris." They decide to skip the crime scene, since both detectives call and assure them that they will fill them in tomorrow, and proceed with their dinner. They discuss the case, and decide that the killer is probably a teenaged male, or a young adult, and that the victims represent a girlfriend he'd lost, but whether through tragedy or break-up was what they didn't know.

As they head off in various directions to bed, they agree to meet early the next morning to firm up a preliminary profile before meeting up with the detectives.

1700 Hours

Home of William and Elizabeth Reid

Somewhere in Las Vegas

Lizzie's POV

I am now thoroughly scared. I got a phone call from the man who owns the Falafel Hut, his daughter, Amina, had been killed earlier today and he's closing the restaurant for now. I email Dad to tell him this, and he replies back that he will be home early today, and that he wants to talk to me. I tell him that I will be home for the rest of the evening, and I take some time to phone my mother.

I dial her new work number, and ask the woman who answers to transfer me.

"Stacey Jenkins, please." I wait as the woman puts me through, and I can hear mom's voice trilling down the phone.

"Sweetie, you know it's not Jenkins anymore. It's Stratford now." I sigh, I know this, but really, how could she be so flippant about forgetting her past? I try not to let my voice sound annoyed, and instead change the subject.

"Sorry. It's still weird, that's all."

"I know. How are things? How is William?"

"He's fine. Working, as usual. I guess you heard that there's a serial killer on the loose."

"Yes, I did. Do you want Dan and me to fly down there? He has only a few weeks of training left; he could probably sneak away for a family emergency." I roll my eyes. My step-father is a minor-league baseball player, and is in Utah for pre-season training or something. My mother is a preschool teacher, and thus, can move pretty much anywhere and still be OK.

"That's not necessary, Mom. I just wanted to tell you that I am safe, and that the Morris's will be having the Memorial on Wednesday. You should send some lilies or something." I can hear her jotting notes.

"Good idea. Ok, well, keep me informed. I am sorry about Reagan, I know you two were close, but I am glad that you are with your father. His firm knows people that can keep you safe." I roll my eyes again; my father is a litigator at a large firm here in town, but I doubt that the local police department cares. I tell her this, and she clicks her tongue at me.

"No need to be snippy, Elizabeth."

"Sorry, Mom. Look, I have to go. I need to make dinner and finish some homework. Send my best to Dan, OK?"

She says she will, and we hang up. I sigh deeply, and head to the kitchen to feed Mouse and start dinner. I decide to bake some skinless chicken breasts, as Dad has started to have cholesterol problems. I prepare some salad and potatoes to eat with it, and pull the chicken out as Dad comes home. He strides into the kitchen and places his briefcase on the landing of the stairs before washing his hands and sitting at the table. I usually bring the food to the table, so we can eat what we want. I have put some glasses and iced tea out already, and he pours a glass before speaking to me.

"Elizabeth, I have been listening to the news at work today, and it doesn't sound good. Amina Karshani now makes four victims, and that means a serial killer is out there. I would prefer that you not be alone until this killer is caught, and so I have asked my paralegal if it is OK for you to come to the office after school. You can do your homework there." I sigh deeply, and formulate an argument quickly.

"But what about Debate team? And basketball practice? Those are both held at school, with plenty of adult supervision." He appears annoyed, but considers my words. He shakes his head.

"Well, basketball practice is on Tuesdays and Thursdays, right? And Debate meets are Friday evenings, but you meet on Monday's during your lunch hour. I suppose that's OK, but those three days ONLY. I expect you to have your cell phone on at all times, and if Irene phones you, you must answer it immediately, OK?" I nod. Irene is Dad's paralegal; she's been his paralegal for years and years, and while the woman is much older than he is, I like her immensely because she talks to me like I am an adult, and not a child.

"I promise I will do that. This Wednesday is Reagan's memorial, at 10 am at the Lutheran church on 28th." He nods once.

"Fine. Go there, and then call Irene if you decide to spend some time at the Morris's. Also, from now on, Lucy will do the shopping along with her usual duties." Lucy is our housekeeper.

"Ok. I understand."

"Thank you. Finally, I got your mid-term report card, and I am pleased with your grades. Have you begun to apply for college?" I nod.

"Yes. I think I want to check out Caltech, and maybe Yale. Perhaps Stanford, too." He nods.

"Those are excellent choices. Do you still plan on becoming a lawyer?" I shrug noncommittally, as I have recently discovered that I am interested in science.

"I am considering engineering, actually." He looks slightly surprised, but nods.

"That's great. What kind?"

"I am not sure yet."

"Well, you have plenty of time." I nod, and pick at my dinner. I haven't really had much of an appetite lately, and I think he realizes this, because he speaks again, his voice softer.

"Lizzie, if you're too upset to eat, I do understand. You should have a little something, though, especially if you have basketball practice tomorrow." I nod, and smile lightly at him.

"I know. I ate the salad. I am just-I don't know. I just don't feel hungry right now."

"It's OK. Have you finished your homework?" I shake my head; I still have several pages of Calculus to wade through.

'No, I have to finish some calculus work."

"Well, put your plate in the dishwasher, and go to it. I can clean up."

"Really?"

"Yes." I stand, hurry into the kitchen and rinse my plate, discarding the uneaten food into the compost bin. I head down the hallway and settle in at my desk, pulling my books out of my backpack. I flip on the radio to hear the news, and begin to work.

I perk up at the news that the FBI is in town, and wonder if Dad knows this. His son, Spencer, from his marriage, works for the FBI. I don't know what he does, exactly, but I do know that he is super-smart and has a good job. I don't know if he knows about me, or the fact that his father had a romantic relationship with my mother, but I do know about him, and I've met his mother once.

I finish my homework in about an hour, and turn to my computer. I scroll over to the Facebook page that the Morris's set up for Reagan. They are taking donations for Victims of Violent Crime groups in lieu of flowers, and there will be a donation table at the Memorial. I share some thoughts and memories of Reagan with all the people who have joined the page, and then I flip off the unit.

I prepare for bed, and find the cat, and say goodnight to Dad. I remind him that he has a doctor's appointment in the morning before his first client, and that it's with Dr. Fisher again, and that he can't eat anything after midnight. He thanks me and encloses himself in his office.

As I fall asleep, I say a little prayer like I do every night, that someday my life will make sense, and that I will understand the problems and hurdles I have faced.

End of Chap. 1


	2. Chapter 2

Sex, Secrets, and Videotape

Chap. 2- Vanished

As the team settles in at the police department, they are introduced to the two detectives in the case, a man called Carlos Montoya, and a female called Lisa Ratcliff. The two detectives tell the Agents what they have done so far.

"We have gathered a list of all the people that the girls have in common-friends, coworkers, boyfriends, people like that. We have sent crime scene samples to the lab; there is no DNA, though we don't know why. We suspect the perp is using condoms, but we're not sure. Finally, we were planning to interview families today, see what they could tell us, and find out if these girls are connected in some way. They attend two different schools, but run in the same circles." The male detective stops speaking as Hotch replies.

"Sounds great. It's a good start. Ok, people, you have your assignments. Let's go." The team separates with the detectives. Rossi and Morgan go with Detective Montoya to interview families, Seaver and Hotch go with Detective Ratcliff to the most recent crime scene, and Reid and JJ begin reading through the files to formulate some new leads.

"I'll take half, and you take half, Spence, and then we'll switch." He replies.

"Sure." They split the files, and locate some highlighters and began to read through the files as they chat about what they read.

"So, so far all four of the girls go to two specific local high schools, one Catholic and the other a private college prep school. They seem to be well adjusted girls, active at school." JJ nods as Spencer finishes.

"Yeah, and they all have the same out-of-school lifestyles-upper middle class girls, spend time at the mall, go to parties. It all seems normal."

"Do any of them have after-school jobs or volunteer at the same places?"

"No, but the last girl, Amina Karshani, her father employs three students from the prep school. Apparently, she worked there, too, bussing tables. It's a Falafel place." Spencer nods.

"Let's get a list of those students. Perhaps they can tell us something." He pulls out his phone and dials Hotch, He relays the things that he and JJ had learned to his boss.

"Good work, you two. We're heading back soon; I'll have Seaver help you so JJ can do what she needs to do. I will review the names when we return." Spencer hangs up, and relays Hotch's words to JJ. They compile the list of four students, three females and one male.

"So, we have Amina Karshani, Alice Monroe. Who else?" Spencer looks up at JJ, who continues.

"I have a boy, Kevin Gnapoor and finally, a girl-Elizabeth Reid. Anyone you know?" Spencer shakes his head, and replies.

"No. I guess that's a good place to start." Just then, Hotch and Seaver return with the detective, who looks over their list with Hotch. She addresses the group.

"This one girl, Elizabeth Reid, she knew two of the victims. Reagan Morris and Amina Karshani. One of our detectives looked into it a little, girl seems on the up and up-her father is a lawyer, her mother teaches preschool, and her grades are fantastic. No history of behavior troubles or complaints from teachers. We had her on the short list of suspects, but removed her after a little bit of investigation." Spencer nods.

"Females that engage in necrophilia are so rare, there aren't even statistics about it. Who else is on the short list?"

"A teacher and a mall employee. Both had contact with all four girls outside of school." The agents exchange a glance, and Hotch replies.

"I think it's too soon to start looking at unsubs. We need to do a little more research." Detective Ratcliff looks confused.

"Unsub?" Hotch nods.

"It means unspecified subject. You call him a perp." She nods, and continues.

"Great. Well, we didn't find anything new at the crime scenes." Hotch speaks again.

"Actually, we did. We discovered that the crime scenes are very specific, and point to a younger unsub. They all happen at or near school sites, and within walking distance of a parking lot. I think we're looking for a teenager or someone who has recently graduated, who would know the fields and feels comfortable there."

"Like an athlete?" asks Seaver. Reid nods.

"Or someone in the marching band. Or even a younger school employee, like an assistant coach or something like that." She nods.

"Great. Well, does anyone on the suspect list fit that description?" Reid and JJ shake their heads.

"Sorry. But let's see what the others say," replied JJ as the other agents and detective return to the room. They all settle in at the big table to recap what they had discovered.

"There are a couple of names that keep coming up. The four girls have one girlfriend in common-that Elizabeth Reid girl, and they also have a boy in common-Clint Meyer. All four girls dated him at one point, and all four families say that it ended badly. He was controlling, even as a teenager, and jealous." Morgan spoke in an even, matter-of-fact way. Rossi nodded in agreement, and continued.

"I think it might be a good idea to look at this Ms. Reid again, and find this Meyer boy."

1000 Hours

Las Vegas Day School

Lizzie

It is break time, and we get fifteen minutes to screw around before third period. I use this time to change out my books and refresh my makeup before class. As I am standing at my locker, using my magnetic mirror to touchup my lipstick, I see Clint Meyer heading my way. I groan; he's a total jock, and so not my type, but he's been asking me out for months. I have half a mind to tell Dad, so he can scare the boy away, but of course, I won't. He speaks.

"Hey, Liz. That's a great color on you." I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and instead, smile sweetly.

"Thank you. What do you want, Clint?"

"I want to ask to the Homecoming dance on Friday. I'm up for King, and you're kind of a shoe-in for Queen, so I figured it would only be right if we went together. We get dinner before hand," he says, a little too hopeful. I shake my head and sigh.

"Sorry, Clint. I have six months left to live." He smiles.

"You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

"No. I'll feel better when you say Yes to me."

"That's not going to happen. I'm sorry." He reaches out and strokes my hair, which is an odd move, and as I smack his hand away, he grimaces, and takes my wrists in his hands.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry about Reagan, also. Are you going to the memorial tomorrow?"

"Yes." He releases me, and steps back, inhaling sharply.

"Good. I'll see you there, then." I raise my hand as if I am waving.

"See you." I shake my head again and turn back to my locker, replacing my English books with my AP Spanish and Physics books, and shut the door. I make a beeline for Senora Gomez's room, and take my seat next to John Harrison, who smiles at me. His cocoa colored skin appears especially dark against his white teeth, and I smile back. John is kind of cute, although I don't know how Dad would react if I brought home a black boy.

"Hey, John. How are you?"

"Hey, Liz. I am OK. How are you holding up?" I smile again; it is sweet of John to ask this, as he knows that Reagan and I are-were-close.

"I'm doing ok. Not well. Just ok."

"That's to be expected. If you ever want to talk, just email me. I will write down my email for you." He scribbles something on a slip of paper and hands it to me. I read it aloud.

"Mynameismud?" I ask. He grins.

"Yeah. When I was little, my mom would tell me that my name would be mud if I acted up. I don't know what it means, exactly." I laugh.

"My mother used to tell me that she would sell me to the zoo." He laughed now, and I muster up the courage to ask him a question.

"So, are you planning on going to the Homecoming dance?" He nods.

"Are you?"

"Maybe. I'm trying to decide if it's appropriate or not, given that two of my girlfriends will be buried this week." He appears serious again.

"I think that people would understand. We're kids. Besides, I heard from Meg Riley that you already have your dress, and that you and Reagan had planned to match." I nod, feeling suddenly cotton-mouthed. I stutter a reply.

"When did you talk to Meg?"

"We have Gym together." I nod, and try to smile as he continues. "You could compromise, and just go to the game, be received, wait for the announcement, accept your crown and then go home. You could skip the fun dance part." I consider his words.

"I'll think about it. That's a good idea, though. Thank you." He nods again as Senora Gomez begins our lesson, and we don't find any more time to talk until we are leaving the classroom. John sidles up to me as I am heading down the hallway to the labs, and speaks.

"Hey, Liz. I forgot to ask you who you're going to the game with." I smile lightly, feeling myself blush.

"Nobody has asked me yet." I can see him breathe in and out, and it is quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

"Do you want to go with me?" I nod, meekly, and reply in a small voice.

"Sure, thanks." He smiles big, and nods.

"Sure. Do you maybe want to get dinner beforehand, too? A bunch of us from Band are going to Signorelli's." I nod again, and smile back. Signorelli's is a local Italian restaurant, and it might be fun to spend some time with people I don't know well, whose entire conversation will NOT revolve around me and Reagan.

"I'd like that. Meet me at 5:30?" He shakes his head.

"I could pick you up." I shrug again.

"Ok. I will email you my address. Fair warning, though, my dad is kind of scary." He laughs and shakes his head.

"I will be ready. Thanks, Liz. I'll see you later." I nod, and hurry down the hallway, realizing that I am about to be late. I slip into my seat next to my lab partner, Claudia, and sigh in relief as the final bell rings.

"I made it." She nods, but shushes me as Dr. French begins his lecture. I am taking notes carefully and trying to be interested in quantum reasoning when a voice trills over the PA system.

"Clint Meyer, please report to the front office immediately." I raise my eyebrows as the whispers pick up around me. Soon, the class has ended, and I head for Music. I sing and play a little piano, and we are preparing for our Christmas concert, which will be fun, I think. Music class carries on, and, after the bell rings and I head for my locker before going to lunch, my cell rings. It is Irene, and I answer it immediately, ducking into the girl's bathroom near the Gym.

"Hi, Irene."

"Hello, dear. Your father wants you to come by the office immediately after your ball practice."

"Ok, thanks. I will do that."

"Great. Thanks, dear. Have a good day." I hang up, and continue on with my day. It is during basketball that things started to get super-weird. I am just scoring the winning basket, watching the orange ball sail through the net, when a decidedly male voice interrupts my victory dance. I whirl around as mystery man speaks.

"Ms. Reid?" I stand, taking in the man's appearance, and smile. I nod, and indicate a time out to Coach, and lead him, and a petite blonde with him to the bleachers near my stuff.

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"I am Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Agent Ashley Seaver, from the FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions regarding the murder of Reagan Morris." I sip some water, and reply.

"OK." I sit down, indicating that they should do the same, but the man shakes his head.

"Can we step into the hallway?"

"Of course." I follow the agents into the hallway outside of the gym, adjusting my t-shirt carefully, and dabbing on some chapstick. We stop, and the agents turn to as the blonde one speaks.

"How are you?"

"Sweating like a pig, actually, and yourself?" She raises her eyebrows, and smiles tightly.

"I'm ok, thanks. We just wanted to know if you knew what Ms. Morris had been doing the day before she was killed." I nod, and take a deep breath.

"Well, we met for coffee before school, which we sometimes do, and then we went on to school. Nothing exciting happened there, except that Leah Trisch and Ross Chandler had this truly horrendous breakup on the Quad. Again. After school, we got a latte, went to her house so I could help her choose a dress for the Val party that night, and then I left. I had to go to my job. I work at the Falafel Hut on Tropicana, near the Hilton. Anyway, she went on to the party. She texted me at about 7, telling me that I was missing out on a great time, and then at 10, telling me that she was going to go to a buffet with her friend April, and this guy called Clint Meyer. They used to date, but they broke up over the summer, when he started to date Jenny Hendricks. But they still stayed friends, I guess. Anyway, that was the last I had heard from her." The agents exchange looks, and nod at each other. The man speaks again, his tone softer.

"I am sorry your friend has died. Thank you for your help. Where can we reach you if we need more information?" I shrug.

"Well, my father and I live over on Knoll Ave., in the Summerlin neighborhood. My father is a litigator, though, so it might be better if you reached me at his office. This is it, here," I hand him one of Daddy's cards, and continue, "because I spend a lot of time there after school since the murders have started." The man glances at the card, and then looks at me, oddly, but nods.

"Thank you, Ms. Reid. I think we're done for now, unless Ms. Seaver has anything?" The blonde shook her head, and smiled. "Well, then, we'll let you get back on the court."

"Thanks." He nods, and they turn to head down the hallway as I return to the Gym. Twenty minutes later, practice has ended, and my phone rings. It is Dad this time.

"Hey, daddy."

He tells me to meet him for dinner at a nearby diner, and then hangs up. No formalities, no goodbyes, no I love you's. It's just the way we are, so I change quickly back into my school uniform and speed across town to the diner. I park carefully and enter the building. I tell the waiter that I am meeting Dad, and he leads me to a table, where Dad is sitting with a younger man I have never seen before. I sit, nervously, after requesting a Diet Coke, and look from Dad to the mystery man before Dad speaks.

"Elizabeth, thank you for getting here so quickly. There are some things we need to discuss." I nod, and it falls quiet again as the waiter returns with my soda and some menus. We scan them, and I decide on the fish and chips, setting my menu aside as Dad continues.

"Do you remember when I told you about my wife and son? I think you were twelve." I nod, realizing suddenly that the other man at the table is Spencer. I smile tightly at him as Dad speaks again. "This is Spencer. He is in town because of the murders. He works for the FBI, using psychology to find and arrest criminals."

I shrug, feeling kind of like an idiot, because I don't know what to say to this. I simply smile at him again, and nod once.

"Hello." He nods once, appearing to be in shock, and then turns back to his drink. Dad finishes his speech.

"Anyway, I just felt like it was time for you two to meet each other, and I was thinking that Spencer could give you some advice on how to keep yourself safe." I fight the urge to roll my eyes, as this dweeby kid could probably take advice from ME. But I nod again, and turn to Spencer.

"Well, I have pepper spray, and my cell, and I try not be alone at night. I think that's all I can do, right?" He shrugs, and then stands abruptly.

"Please excuse me, I have to go." I stare after him, bewildered, and turn back to daddy, who looks slightly annoyed but not surprised. I sip my soda before speaking to Dad.

"What did you say to him?" Dad sighs, and stands, too.

"Just that you're my daughter, and that your mother and I had a romance after his mother and I divorced, and that you stay with me now. It was all very straightforward. But he's sensitive. Excuse me, dear, I need to use the men's room. Order yourself some dinner, OK?" I nod, and sigh deeply as Daddy leaves the table. I order my meal, and tell the waiter to wait to see if Daddy will eat, too. He nods, and leaves me alone as Dad reappears at the table, and picks up his jacket.

"I will pay on my way out. Finish your dinner, and then go home. Please phone me when you arrive; I will expect it to be about an hour, OK? I will be at the office for the remainder of the evening." I nod.

"OK." I begin my dinner, looking in sad frustration at the empty seats around me, and wondering what the heck just happened. I am glad that tomorrow is Wednesday; although it is Reagan's memorial, it is also the day I see my psychologist.

I finish my dinner, leave a tip, and head back home, calling Dad to let him know I am safe, and then head to my room to finish homework. Later, I prepare my outfit for the next day-I choose a black skirt and blouse, and a black cardigan to wear over it. I find my low pumps and some pantyhose, and then wash my hair and set it. Finally, it is bedtime, and I climb under the covers and fall asleep after some time. I dream about Dad dying and me being sent to live with Spencer, which would be so epically weird.

0700 Hours

Reid's Home

Somewhere in Las Vegas

The next morning, I wake up early. It figures, the one day I don't go to school is the day I am up before my alarm. I put on my robe and head for the kitchen. I notice that the house is quiet, and I wonder if Dad ever came home last night. I shrug, and take my coffee back to my room, and settle on the bed. I let my mind think of Reagan for awhile, and then I stand and take in my appearance. My face is like Spencer's, which is like our father's, I guess, but I have my mother's coloring-she was a fair blonde, and I am pale, with alabaster skin and pale pink lips. My smile is my mother's, too, slightly crooked, but brilliant. My mother is pretty still, and though she has lines from years of chain smoking and the tolls of deep depression, she still smiles big and can light up a room.

I grab my hair brush and form waves out of the set I did last night, and clip my hair back. I am trying for a mature, somber look-I understand that today is not the day for wild, garish makeup. I apply a little base, and some blusher, and simply swipe on some neutral eye shadow, foregoing liner. I swipe on a single coat of waterproof mascara, and coat my lips in a light, frosty pink gloss. I change into my sweats, wanting to be fresh when I meet the Morris's, so I won't put on my outfit until just before it is time to go. I sit at my computer, and type out an email to Mom and my friend Kelly, who moved to Washington state last year. Kelly didn't know Reagan, as she went to public school, but she lived next door to Mom, and we were friends. I finish my emails, and flip over to my MP3 provider, letting heavy rock music blast throughout the house. Mouse wakes up and yawns at me, seemingly annoyed that I am waking him up. I pet his head as I sit back on the bed, and page through the novel I am reading-Crime and Punishment-but can't really concentrate. I stand again, and head back to the kitchen. I see Dad stumble out his bedroom, looking angry. He speaks to me.

"Go turn your music down." I roll my eyes, but do as he says, and then return to the kitchen, where I pull out some stuff for breakfast. I arrange some eggs, bacon and toast supplies across one counter, and begin to prepare a light meal. I cut some fruit, too, and pour another cup of coffee. I make sure to scramble the eggs with olive oil instead of butter, and the bacon is turkey bacon, which Dad's cardiologist says is better for him. I finish preparing the meal and head for dad's office, knocking lightly. He calls me in, and I find him sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, and the file he keeps of Spencer's work and life open on his computer. I speak gently to him.

"Breakfast is ready." He raises his head, and nods quietly, following me out of the room. We settle in at the table, and then he speaks.

"I apologize for last night, Liz. I didn't think it through, and I realize now that I probably should have done that better." I nod lightly.

"It's OK. I don't think there's a right way to do something like that. I am just sorry that it wasn't the happy thing you wanted it to be."

He looks surprised, as he often seems when I say stuff like that. I think that he expects me to be a little dim-witted, though he knows I am not, but Reagan was, as are some of my girlfriends. But actually, I have the second-highest GPA in the whole school district. He nods, though, and continues.

"I just don't understand how I keep letting him down. He seemed so…I don't know, frightened yesterday." I reply.

"Well, it was probably just shocking. I mean, if you were, what, 28 and just learned that you have a 17 year old sister you've never met from the mother of the boy you believed your father killed, how would you feel?" He grimaces at me, but sighs and nods again.

"I guess you're right. Are you ready for the memorial?"

"Yes. Don't forget that I will see Dr. Stein afterwards." He speaks.

"Ok. Well, be sure to phone Irene when you're heading to the clinic, OK?"

"I will." We finish our meal in silence, and I stand to collect the plates. I wash them carefully, and then head back to my room. I put away some laundry, and organize my books for tomorrow, and then I check my purse, making sure I have enough tissues and a compact, just in case. I slip in a few more personal items and make sure my cell phone is fully charged. Finally, I brush my teeth and change my clothes, and head to the church where the memorial will be held.

I locate the CD of music that Reagan's mom asked me to put together to play as people are arriving, and I head into the building. I greet the Morris's, and start the music. It is mostly somber classical pieces, but I have added a few things of my own, that holds some meaning to me or Reagan, like "On the Turning Away", by Pink Floyd, which is my favorite song, and our favorite love song, Dream a Little Dream of Me, which we sang together in Junior High for our talent show.

I sit quietly in a pew and, while I am not a praying person, I try to make my thoughts calm and positive, radiating warm energy into the universe. I see my friends and teachers and other parents file in, and Reagan's family. Finally, I see the cop who came to the house on the first day, and the man from the FBI I spoke with yesterday, and a few others, who I assume are his colleagues. It doesn't escape my notice that Spencer is not with them, and I try hard not to stare, but feel a tall blonde staring at me. I shift in my seat, and tune in as the priest begins the ceremony.

Halfway through, I stand, and share some little stories about Reagan and me, and try to keep myself from breaking down. On the one hand, I feel that I must be strong, for the Morris's, and for myself, but on the other hand, I want to convey to the police and FBI people how important it is to catch Reagan's killer. I smile as best I can as I finish my speech, and sit quietly as yet another song I've chosen plays. This one is "The Show Must Go On," by Queen, and I hear a few titters at the selection. I could not choose a sad song; it's not my nature to be depressed, and Reagan, I believe, would prefer this.

A little later, the ceremony has ended, and I am standing in the rector, next to the Morris's, greeting people. Most of the people, whom I know, take my hands and tell me how sorry they are at the loss of my best friend, but it is the FBI people that I want to see. I excuse myself to Reagan's mom, and quickly block their way as they try to leave immediately after the reception line. It is the blonde who speaks first.

"Are you Liz?" I nod, but make a face.

"Yes. Look, this was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Please, you have to figure out who did this to my friend." The man I had met the day before nods quietly.

"We know. This is Agent Jareau, she's going to be meeting with the Morris's in a few minutes. Why don't you spend some time talking with her?" I nod.

"Great, thanks." I step aside and let them out the door as the tall blonde stays behind. She smiles at me, and speaks again.

"Spencer told me about your dinner last night." I swallow and take a breath.

"Yeah. Well, I don't know what Dad was thinking, but at least it's all out in the open now." She looks at me, her expression odd, as she replies.

"Can I ask who your mother is?"

"Stacey Jenkins." She looks surprised, and I nod. "She and my father had a romance not long after he divorced Spencer's mother, and um, she always told me it was due to Riley's death-that her husband became distant and abusive, and that Dad was the one who understood her pain." The woman nods.

"No wonder he was so shaken up. Do you understand what happened?"

"Yes. But why does he hate me?" I feel my voice catch lightly, and I realize that the meeting last night bothered me more than I realized. She shrugs.

"He doesn't hate you. He's just confused."

"Me, too." Just then, we are interrupted by John Harrison, who walks to me.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Can I speak with Liz for a minute?" The FBI agent nods, and steps aside, falling into conversation with her people. I smile up at John.

"Hey, John."

"Hey, Liz. A bunch of us are going to go to breakfast, do you want to come along? It's mostly your girlfriends, but I think Clint Meyer is going, too." I shrug.

"I don't really feel like going. I wanted to go by the Morris's, to the reception, to give my condolences. I made a casserole, too." John smiles lightly, and chuckles, but speaks.

"I understand. Do you want me to come with you?"

"That's not necessary. You go ahead and have fun. I'll be OK." He touches my face, lightly, and I smile again.

"As long as you're sure." I nod.

"I am sure. Thanks, though. I'll see you tomorrow?" He nods, and turns away. A few moments later, as I am getting my purse and sweater to leave the building, Clint Meyer corners me.

"What did John Harrison want? I saw him touch you." I roll my eyes, and speak in an annoyed tone.

"He just wanted to see if I was OK, which I am. What do you want?"

"I heard you were going with him to the game on Friday." I sigh, and stand.

"Yes. Look, Clint, the past couple of days have been really rough. Can we talk about this later?" He nods.

"Fine. I heard you were going to the Morris's. Let me give you a ride, you probably shouldn't be driving." I sigh, but consider his words. I remember an article I read last year on the Internet that claimed that a lot of daytime car deaths occurred because people were driving while their emotions were heightened. Finally, I nod.

"Ok, I guess you're right. Thanks." I didn't realize then that I was making the worst mistake of my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Sex, Secrets, and Videotape

Disclaimer: I forgot to put this in the first chapter. CM is property of CBS entertainment. I am just borrowing the characters.

Author's note: I hope that the Spencer's POV parts aren't too unbelievable…I sometimes find myself struggling to write from a male POV (particularly a sexy, genius male ;)

Chap. 3-Oh, Brother

2200 Hours

The Hilton Garden Inn

Somewhere in Las Vegas

Spencer sits at a table in the diner attached to the hotel where the team is staying, and sips his coffee, his thoughts jumbled. Earlier that evening, he'd gone to see his father, ready to make amends as was his intention since starting recovery. His father had accepted his apologies, and had apologized, as well, and then began to tell him a story. At first, he'd been a little interested in what his father had to say, but as the discussion went on, he became less and less interested and more and more confused. And annoyed. A familiar voice interrupted his quiet thoughts.

"Spence? Can I join you?" He smiles at JJ and nods.

"Of course." He watched as his friend sat and arranged her hair before speaking.

"Do you want to talk? You came back from meeting your father looking upset." He sighed.

"I suppose it would do some good to talk to someone. But you have to swear not to tell the others." JJ smiles a little, but nods.

"I promise to keep it to myself." He sighs, and replies.

"Thanks. OK. It started off well; we were able to talk and even though I still felt a little bit of the old anger and resentment, I felt that I was able to understand where he came from. But then he revealed to me that he has been sick, and told me some things."

JJ nods, and they're interrupted by a waitress. JJ orders a coffee and motions for Spencer to continue.

"Anyway, he had an affair with Riley Jenkins's mother. Apparently, it was after he divorced my mom, but not long after. And they had a daughter-that girl we're investigating. I think he said her name is Elizabeth." JJ looked taken aback, and spoke lightly.

"I understand why that would upset you." He nods, and continues.

"It's just-I wonder if it really wasn't because of me that he left. I mean, if he went on to have another child, who is, by all accounts, fairly normal and not at all like me, logic says that I wasn't enough." JJ shakes her head.

"No, Spencer. Think of it like this. What if your parents, together, had had another child? It's a similar thing." He shrugs again.

"Maybe. I just-I wish he had told me when it happened. It might have come in handy, having a sister to talk to when things were bad." JJ smiles.

"Well, you know now. May I tell you something?" He nods, and finishes his coffee.

"Sure." She continues after finishing her coffee.

"I spoke with her at the memorial this morning, and I think she's just as mixed up as you are. She thinks you hate her." He look at JJ, his eyes round and doleful.

"Did you tell her I don't, that I was just shocked and annoyed?" JJ shook her head.

"No. I didn't think it was my place to say anything. Maybe you should phone her later; Garcia has tracked her cell phone number." Spencer sighs, and nods.

"Maybe I will." JJ smiles then.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's 2 am DC time, and my body hasn't yet adjusted. I think I'll call it a night. I am seeing Amina Karshani's parents in the morning." Spencer smiles lightly at her.

"I understand. Sleep well. See you tomorrow." She nods, and stands to exit the diner for the elevator. Spencer's voice causes her to turn.

"JJ? Thanks." She smiles and waves, ducking out of the diner. Spencer sighs and stands, and pays for their coffees before returning to his room. He settles against the tiny bed, listening to Hotch's quiet, even breathing, and closes his eyes. He dreams of the Riley Jenkins episode again, but this time it is Elizabeth, instead of his mother, at the window in the living room.

0900 Hours

LVPD

Spencer's POV

When I woke this morning, I felt like hell again. The headaches have been returning, and this morning's was a big one. I am sure this episode is due to the events of the previous evenings, so I quietly swallowed down some Tylenol and ate my breakfast without saying anything to anyone. Now, we're all gathered around the table in the meeting room, and I am doing my best to ignore the pointed stares from Derek and the sympathetic ones from JJ.

"Ok, everyone. Let's see if we can't try to put together a preliminary profile," I hear Hotch say. I sit forward, and wait a moment. Noticing that no one else is ready, I clear my throat and speak up.

"We're looking for a male, young teens or early 20's, who is sexually impotent, and regards these girls as a replacement for the girl he has lost." Hotch nods at me.

"That's good, Reid." I nod, not really looking for his approval, but next Derek speaks, and I have no time to muse.

"It's definitely a male. A female just couldn't cause the vaginal injuries that the victims showed."

Because he is our specialist in sex crimes since Emily is gone, I trust his words. We chat a little longer, settling on the profile: a teenaged boy, likely a student, who sees the girls he's killed as replacements for a girl he was jilted by. The victims are all similar in appearance-brunettes, pretty. Three wore glasses, but one did not, but we don't think that that is important. Finally, we have zeroed in on a specific name-Clint Meyer. The missing piece is the girl he lost, and the story behind that.

Hotch tells me to head off with JJ to interview the boy's parents, and for this, I am thankful, as I sense that the others can tell that I am tense, and I don't wish to discuss the events of last night with anyone. Except maybe JJ, because she will never judge. I smile at JJ as she approaches, and I stand to greet her.

"Hey." She smiles at me, as she usually does, and I notice that I no longer have the twinges of oddness in my stomach that I used to have. I have made an attempt to push any romantic ideals I had of JJ out of my mind since the first year, and I've been able to see her as simply a colleague, but I am grateful for her gentle, nurturing presence in our lives.

"Hi, Spence. How are you?" I smile back, and reply.

"I'm OK, all things considered. Are you ready?" She nods. I turn to follow her out of the building and into a car that the police department is loaning us for the time being. I speak to her.

"Would you like to drive?" She shakes her head. I hold the door for her as she climbs into the passenger's seat, and then close it carefully before climbing into the driver's seat and preparing the car. I have to move the mirrors, because the detective who used this car before me was short, and I always check, anyway. I put on my seat belt, and make sure that JJ does the same, which she does, of course, and then I put the key that she gave me into the ignition as JJ speaks.

"Ok, so pull out here, and then follow the main road to Albany Rd. Take a left, and then turn right on Knightsbridge. The house is 1375." I nod, and glance at my blind spot as I pull out. I feel JJ watching me, and I speak to her, making sure to maintain my focus on driving while I do so.

"I am really OK. I thought about what you told me last night, and I think that you are correct. It wasn't the girl's fault, and I certainly could phone her, I suppose, and at least hear her out. She seemed interested in meeting me, and she seemed to already know who I was." From my periphery, I see her nod. I continue. "It's just weird, imagining my father with another woman. And his parenting skills didn't exactly earn him any father of the year awards. I just wonder how he wound up with custody of a child. He works a lot." JJ nods again as I make the first turn. I see her open her mouth, and so I remain silent.

"Did he tell you about how he came to have custody of the child?" I shake my head.

"No. It never came up. I didn't really wait around long enough." We pull up in front of a modest, two-story house near where my father lives, and we fall silent as JJ knocks on the door. She announces us, and I follow her inside, and as the woman who JJ identified as Mrs. Meyer indicates, we sit on the couch. I look at JJ, and then begin.

"Mrs. Meyer, we have just a few questions for you, if you don't mind." The woman, who has been gazing at us with an absent expression, just nods. I look at JJ, who shrugs lightly, and so I begin.

"Can you tell us who Clint spends most of his time with?" The woman sighs, but replies.

"He is on the football team, spends a lot of time with a boy-Cory Jones. They have been friends for years, played Jr. Football together. He goes to the day school with the other children." I nod, and JJ opens her mouth. I let her speak.

"Has he shown much interest in girls?" The woman nods.

"Yes. He has dated cheerleaders. Most recently, it was that poor Morris girl, although I think he likes her friend, Elizabeth, more. Now, she's a very nice girl, very polite, and very smart. So nice to everyone. It's just such a shame that her mother remarried and essentially abandoned her with her workaholic father. I worry about her, a pretty girl all alone in that big house." I smile as best I can, storing this revelation away for future reference, and continue.

"How have his grades been?"

"They've fallen a little, since his accident. Nothing has been the same." I glance at JJ; so far, no one has discovered an accident. JJ looks at me, her eyebrows raised. She speaks.

"Accident?" The woman nods again.

"Yes. When he was 15, Clint and his father went for a drive, and picked up his girlfriend at the time, a girl called Ashley Grey, really sweet. It was rainy, though, but my husband thought that Clint would be OK driving, even though he'd only had his permit for a few months. The police told me that Clint had fishtailed, and then overcorrected, and drove into a barrier. Ashley died on impact, as she was sitting in the back driver's side, and wasn't wearing a seatbelt. His father was permanently disabled, and about 7 months ago, we put him in the Veteran's home because I couldn't care for him." I glance at JJ again, and she nods once, and stands, excusing herself to call Hotch. I speak again to the woman.

"Thanks for your time, Mrs. Meyer. We're sorry about your husband. Can we find you here if we have further questions?" She nods as JJ returns. I stand, as well, and Mrs. Meyer leads us to the door and sees us out. When the door is firmly closed behind us, I speak to JJ.

"What did Hotch say?"

"He wants us back now. Something has come up, but he didn't say what." I sigh, but nod, and follow her to the car. We drive in silence for a few moments, until JJ clears her throat, and speaks to me.

"So, how are you after hearing what Mrs. Meyer said about your sister?" I shrug.

"It's an interesting angle. I never figured that." I see JJ nod, and I smile lightly. "Well, what do you think? I mean, about the profile, knowing what we know now?"

"I think it's correct. Let's fill in everyone, though, and target in on him. My only question now becomes, where is he hiding these girls before he kills them?" I shrug. I hadn't considered this.

"I don't know. I didn't see any empty buildings on the property. Should we go back and ask his mother?" JJ shakes her head, and pulls out her phone.

"I'll call Garcia." I nod, and muse inwardly. If you need info about someone's personal life, that woman is the one to call. Actually, I should ask her to do a little digging into Elizabeth.

I listen to JJ ask Garcia to see if the Meyer's have any empty properties in the vicinity, and then hang up. I pull into the parking lot, and we head upstairs. JJ relays the information we've discovered to the others as I settle in at the table, and Detective Ratcliff hands me a cup of coffee, and one to JJ, also. Then, Hotch's cell phone rings, and he answers it.

"Go, Garcia." I listen with the others as she relies some information.

"So, JJ asked me to look into the Meyer's finances, and the family doesn't own much. The house they live in is on the brink of foreclosure, and there are no bank records. I think they're really struggling. However, Mommy Meyer's father is still alive, and lives in the burbs. Has a large property, including some barns." I glance around at the others, and the signs are clear-Clint Meyer has a place to keep these girls until he is through with them. She continues.

"Also, the girl that Clint killed was called Ashley Grey; I am sending photos to your phone."

"Great, Garcia. Thanks." He hangs up as our phones buzz, and I pull mine out, revealing a text from Garcia. I open it, and find a photo of a young teenager, with brown hair and brown eyes, and a large, happy smile. I catch my breath, and look up as the others do the same.

"She's pretty," remarks Seaver as the police captain enters the meeting room, and speaks.

"Excuse me, agents? Another girl has gone missing. Elizabeth Reid. Apparently, she left the funeral yesterday, and never came home. Didn't show up at her psychologist's office, and not at school, either. Her father called it in." I glance at JJ before inhaling sharply, causing the others to look at me. I smile lightly, but excuse myself.

"Please, excuse me. I need to use the restroom." The others murmur as I leave. I head for the men's room, and splash my face with cold water. Just then, Morgan enters and speaks to me.

"You Ok, kid?" I shrug.

"Yeah. It's just, um, that girl-she's my sister. I just found out last night, when I had dinner with my dad. It's just-I'm worried. But I'm OK. Really." He looks at me, eyebrows raised.

"Really?"

"Yes." Morgan shrugs, and makes a face.

"We'll find her. Have you told Hotch?"

"No. I told JJ, though."

"Ah, that's why she sent me in." I shrug again.

"I guess." He sighs.

"Let's go talk to Hotch, and then we'll pound the pavement, and we'll look for her. I'll call Garcia, and have her trace Elizabeth's phone, and you'll see. It'll work out. You should see your dad, too. He's here, downstairs, talking to Rossi." I sigh, and wash my hands before following him out of the restroom. We head back to the meeting room, and I approach Hotch.

"Sir, can I speak with you for a moment? Alone?" He nods, and we step into an anteroom.

"What's is it, Reid?" I reply quickly, sensing his annoyance.

"This girl who has gone missing? I think-I know-she's my sister. I met her last night, when I went to dinner with my father. That's what he'd wanted to discuss with me." I watch as Hotch's expression changes. I speak again, trying to anticipate his next move.

"I'm OK. I just thought that you should know. I am perfectly fine continuing on with this case." Hotch shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Reid. This is over my head now. I am pulling you off this case. You don't have to turn in your badge and weapon, but you will stay away from any active work on this case." I sigh, and fight an urge to roll my eyes.

"Fine. Can I stay here and help JJ?" He shakes his head.

"No. You should probably just go see your father. I am sure he will need someone right now."

"Ok." I turn away, annoyed, and feel him watch me as I stalk out of the room. I enter the meeting room, and I can tell that the others sense I am tense, because they all look at me. I grab my jacket and bag, and head for the door, ignoring the stares of everyone as I hear Hotch speak.

"Dr. Reid is taking some personal time, so unfortunately, we will have to proceed without him. You all have your assignments." I roll my eyes as I head downstairs and outside. I sit on a bench outside of the building, pulling my legs into me, and let my mind go calm. It dawns on me that I have nothing holding me back right now; that I could go home and catch up on work and my thesis, and maybe go visit Prentiss's gravesite. On the other hand, I could go see Mom. But for some reason, I pull out my phone and dial my father. He answers on the first ring.

"William? Hi, it's Spencer." I listen to his tone, he sounds surprised. He greets me, and I cut to the chase.

"Look, my supervisor pulled me off this case, but I want to help you find Elizabeth, so I was thinking I could do a little work from your office. Is that OK?" He tells me it is, and to meet him there. As I hang up, I decide I will walk it; it's close to the police building, and it's not too warm today. I slide my phone back into my pocket, secure my weapon in my bag, and begin the trek to the Lansing building, where his firm takes up the entire fourth floor.

Halfway there, my cell rings, and of course, it's JJ. I answer it quickly.

"Hey, JJ."

"Oh, my God, Spence. What happened? Hotch told me he pulled you off the case." I sigh, and nod before remembering that she can't see me.

"Yes. I guess that he assumed that I couldn't be level-headed." I hear JJ click her tongue.

"Where are you headed now?"

"My father's office." I hear her nod and some papers being shuffled.

"Good idea. Rossi just finished up, and your father is leaving here now. Do you want me to text you the info that they discussed?"

"Please."

"I will. Look, I have to go. I'll check in later, OK?"

"Thanks, JJ."

"Of course, Spence. Bye." I hear the phone click off and the line goes dead. I shrug, put my phone away, and enter the building, riding the elevator to the fourth floor. I arrive, suddenly feeling nervous. I open the door to his firm, and take a deep breath before entering. I smile at the young woman behind the behemoth desk in the front office.

"Hello, I am Dr. Reid. I am supposed to meet William Reid here." The girl looks me over; a look I have come to recognize, that indicates that she finds me attractive, though I don't find her attractive. I smile again as she nods, holds up a well-manicured finger, and speaks.

"Hang on. Let me call his paralegal." I nod, and stand quietly near the desk, my gaze pointed to the white wall behind the girl. I hear her speak into the phone, asking for Irene, who I suddenly remember meeting a few times when I was very young. A moment later, the girl, who's nameplate I've spotted-Jenny-speaks to me again.

"Dr. Reid, you can have a seat. Irene will be just a moment. She's expecting you." This doesn't surprise me; I assumed my father would've put the entire office on alert, and was sort of surprised that Jenny the receptionist didn't know who I was. I settle into a plastic chair, and take in the sparsely decorated front office. There is a fern in one corner, and a palm tree in a pot in the opposite corner. The visitors chairs are arranged in a row, five total plastic chairs, in front of which is a long coffee table, scattered with newspapers, magazines, and trade journals.

I hear my name being said by a familiar female voice, and I stand, smiling, as I turn around. It is Irene, and though she is older now, she is much as I remember.

"Hello, Irene." She smiles at me.

"Hello, Spencer. I didn't think you'd remember me. It's wonderful to see you again."

"I do remember you. It's good to see you again, too."

She motions for me to follow her, and as we head down a hallway, I can feel Jenny watching me. I follow Irene down the hallway, and into an office marked "William Reid, Esq." on the outside. The office is much as I remember-bright, white walls, Irene's large, wooden desk outside of Dad's office. There are plants and paintings everywhere, and a water cooler in the corner that is likely older than I am. I settle into the same chair I remember sitting in at six, when Mom and I came to visit Dad one day when I was home sick.

"Ok, dear. Your father should be here in just a moment. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?" I shake my head.

"No, thanks." She nods, and speaks again.

"Have you seen him today? He's really shaken up about this. Elizabeth is really quite responsible, and so when she didn't phone at all yesterday, I knew something was wrong." I shrug.

"I haven't seen him yet. But that's good to know." I fall silent again, and she shrugs and turns back to her computer. I am sure she wants me to tell her what I know, but I feel that if I talk about it, I might not be able to keep they myriad emotions inside, and I might not be able to handle this case. And I WILL not allow myself to break down over some stupid girl I only just met. I know that sounds harsh, but whatever. I never asked for a sister, and I certainly never asked for strangers to know so much about my personal life.

I settle back, and pull out my phone. JJ has texted me a summary of the information that Rossi had gathered, and I scan it quickly.

Rossi had discovered that she was smart, a fact that I find amusing. I guess she isn't some stupid girl, even though I didn't mean stupid in the literal sense of the term. Well-adjusted, active in school activities, and on the basketball team. Doesn't date much, which again amuses me-it seems the Reid's, as a whole, struggle in that area. She is nominated for Homecoming Queen, though, which is ironic-romantically stunted, but popular. Strange combination.

I decide that I will begin my covert investigation at their home-looking at a victim's home, and, in the case of children-their bedrooms-helps to determine the type of victim they are-a submissive, a fighter, etc. Besides, I can get to know this girl better in my own way, and maybe, maybe we can relate better if I know something about her on a personal level.

I hear my father's voice in the hallway, and I stand, replacing my cell in my pocket and smoothing my shirt.

"Thanks, Jennifer. You don't need to inform Irene." It is a moment before he arrives in his office, and he smiles when he sees me. I fight the urge to rush out the door, and instead plant my feet firmly on the ground. I make a mental note to not be combative, and instead I nod at him.

"Hello, Spencer."

"Hi." He smiles again, and turns to Irene.

"Thanks for meeting him, Irene. The FBI people said not to worry, they are narrowing in on a suspect, and expect that Elizabeth is OK. I need to return home, one of the agents will be there with me until she is found. I guess it's protocol or something." Irene, to her credit, simply nods, and replies quietly.

"We will be fine here, Bill. Please, if you or Spencer need anything, please let me know." Dad nods again, and motions to me to follow him into his office. I shut the door behind us, and sit in his visitor's chair as he settles into the desk chair. I glance around the office, and am surprised when my eyes settle on an arrangement of photographs. One is of me and my mother, and then a family portrait I vaguely remember taking; I must have been three or four. Finally, there is a photograph of the Elizabeth girl with Dad at what seems to be a birthday party. They are standing next to each other, smiling, and Elizabeth is holding a stuffed rabbit and wearing a party hat. She appears to be young, probably ten or eleven, and Dad looks happy. I realize that he realizes I have discovered the photos, because he speaks then.

"That's Elizabeth. When she turned thirteen." I nod.

"Oh. Looks like a fun party." He shrugs.

"It was, I guess. A lot of teenaged girls in a small room at a pizza parlor isn't exactly fun, but she was happy." I can't think of an adequate response, and so I just nod again, and make a noise.

"Hmm." We are quiet again for a moment, before he speaks again.

"What happened, Spencer? Why are you not working this case with the others?" I sigh.

"My supervisor discovered that I have a personal connection, and removed me. I am to behave as a private citizen until such time that he deems it appropriate for me to return to the case. Likely, once…Elizabeth is found." He purses his lips.

"I am sorry, Spencer, that this spilled over into your professional life. It was never my intent for this to be anything more than a family affair." I snort, and he appears angry. He continues. "I mean that. You're my son, and I love you, and I care about the things that happen to you. But I also care about Elizabeth. You see, with you, I screwed up. Majorly. I understand that. But with Elizabeth, well, it gave me a chance to start over. But I think you'll find that she doesn't like me much, either." I sigh, and respond.

"I am sorry, too. Thank you. I need to go to your home; often, children, especially females, will have clues in their private spaces at home, things that parents won't necessarily look at, but might be helpful. Even the colors of her walls will tell me something." He nods, and stands.

"Let me get a few files, and then I will be happy to give you a ride, if you like. But I thought you were off this case." I shrug again.

"I am to behave as a private citizen. I believe that if I were anyone else, I'd be doing what I knew to find someone I cared about." Dad smiles lightly, turns to his file cabinet, removes a thick manila folder and a smaller green hanging file, and turns back to me.

"I understand. Are you ready?" I nod, and stand, taking a deep breath. I follow him out of the office, back into the hallway, and out to the elevator. We ride in silence to the ground floor, where he checks his business mailbox, and then we head out for his car. I am amused to discover it is the exact same car as he had when I was a kid, and I comment on this.

"You still have this old thing?" He nods.

"Yes." I slide into the passenger's seat, and we drive in silence for a bit, until arriving at his home. I take in the outer appearance. It is a small, modest home, though I know that Dad makes good money. It is white stucco, rather LA-ish, actually, and one level. The trim is painted a deep brown, and the lawn is well-manicured, with little red flowers lining a brick pathway to the front door. In the window, a fat cat snoozes on the back of a sofa, and I smile.

"Is that your cat?" I follow him up the path, on alert for anything suspicious, and watch as he unlocks the door, and flips on a light. He responds.

"No, my cat passed away a few years ago. That's Elizabeth's cat. His name is Mouse." I raise my eyebrows.

"Mouse?" He shrugs.

"I'm afraid so. She named him when she was a little girl. I think she thought it was funny."

I take in the room, and realize that it is the living room, though it appears that no one actually spends much time here. There is a leather loveseat, a matching leather armchair, and a handsome wooden coffee table, and not much else. On the coffee table is the only sign of life-a coffee-table book that I can see is a collection of drawings by Degas, and a fern in a pot in the corner. I have gathered that Dad likes greenery. I turn to him.

"Don't let me keep you from whatever you need to do. I can do my research on my own." He nods, and turns down a hallway, calling over his shoulder.

"Help yourself to anything in the fridge. The housekeeper did the shopping yesterday. Liz's room is the one at the end of the hall on the left." I sigh into the dark, silent house, and, suddenly, the doorbell rings. Dad reappears, and I head with him as he opens the door to reveal JJ and Morgan. I smile at her as Dad escorts her and Morgan inside.

"Hi, guys." They both smile and nod at me, and then JJ falls into conversation with Dad as I ask Morgan to follow me. He speaks to me as I lead him to Elizabeth's bedroom.

"So JJ spilled the beans about Hotch taking you off this case. How are you?"

"Upset, but what can I do?" He shrugs, and we open the door. I take in the room, and step back, allowing Morgan to enter. JJ comes down the hall then, heading towards us. She smiles at me as we step into the room together.

"Hey, Spence. I told Morgan about the recent developments. I hope you don't mind. You really shouldn't be in here, though." I grimace. She shrugs, and speaks to Morgan.

"Derek, do you want me to do this? I mean, it is a girl's room." Morgan rolls his eyes, and shakes his head.

"No. Reid, if you stay quiet and out of the way, I won't say anything to Hotch." I nod, and glance around the room. The most striking thing is that the walls are painted a muted pink, which is something I would've expected of a young child, but not a teenager. I suddenly realize that this is likely the same paint that has been on the walls for many years, and wonder how long Dad has lived here. I say this to the others.

"The walls are pink." Morgan looks up from the computer he is turning on, and nods.

"Yeah. Rossi said that your father had indicated that Elizabeth had chosen to stay with him when her mother remarried last year. I bet this is the same room she's had since she was a child." I nod. I notice that in one corner is a small vanity table, and various cosmetics and hair things litter the top. In the opposite corner is a desk, with a computer and some books spread across it. Above the desk are lined up some awards, four perfect attendance awards, some basketball trophies, and a corkboard, which has pictures of Elizabeth with what I assume are her friends tacked to it, along with a calendar. Finally, next to the closet is a four-door dresser, with more makeup littering the top.

"Ok." JJ is looking through the closet, likely for anything that Elizabeth feels she has to hide. I see her step back, and I cross over.

"What did you find?"

"A whole mess of private school uniforms, sports equipment, and a pretty ball gown. But nothing too concerning." Just then, Morgan speaks to us.

"There's some emails, but I can't access them. I'm going to call Garcia." I watch him pull out his phone, and dial the office. I hear him trill down the phone, and smile at their banter.

"Hang on, mama, I'm gonna put this on speaker so JJ and Reid can hear." He clicks a button, and then I can hear Garcia's smiley voice.

"Hey, smarty pants. JJ. What do you need, lovelies?" I smile, Garcia's crazy antics are usually a welcome distraction in the day, and today is no exception. Morgan speaks.

"I'm with JJ at Elizabeth Reid's home, doing victim-ology. I need you to see if you can hack in and review her emails." I hear Garcia giggle.

"I thought you were going to give me something challenging. Gimme a minute." A few moments later, she speaks again. "Say, does she have a cat?" I nod at Morgan, who indicates that I should speak. I reply.

"Yeah. His name is Mouse, why?"

"Because teenaged girls use their cat's names as passwords all the time. Ok, I'm in. Looks like she emails the same people-her parents, a few girlfriends, and twice to a boy. Which ones do you need?"

"Any mention of a Clint Meyer?"

"Searching…got a coupla hits. Mostly to her girlfriend Reagan Morris, hating on the boy, calls him a jerk and tells Reagan she's too good for him. Another to her mother, saying basically the same thing. Nothing alarming. Oh, guess what, Spence? It looks like your sister has a date tomorrow night." I roll my eyes, and Morgan chuckles.

"Thanks, girly. We'll call you if we need more."

"Yup. Over." The line goes dead, and Morgan hangs up and faces JJ and me.

"So that wasn't helpful. This hasn't been that successful of a victim toss. She seems to be a mix of all victims types. And no mention of why Clint Meyer would choose her."

I sigh, and nod, glancing at the desk where Morgan is still standing. I notice a calculus book, a dog-eared copy of Crime and Punishment, and a leather-bound notebook, which I indicate.

"Wait, what is that leather tome?" Morgan mutters under his breath, but retrieves the book and turns it over in his hands. He opens the first page, and then snaps it shut.

"A journal. JJ." JJ extends her hands for the book, and turns to me.

"I'll look through it. I promise not to tell you anything too embarrassing, OK?" I nod, but wonder if I want to know anything at all, and turn back to Morgan, who speaks.

"Ok, well, I guess I'll head back to the police department. JJ, call me when you're through, OK?" She nods, and we leave the room. Morgan heads out the front door as JJ and I settle into the living room.

"So this is weird, being in your childhood home," she says to me. I shake my head.

"This is not my childhood home." She blushes a little, and I reach out for her hand.

"It's OK. It is weird, no matter what." She smiles at me, and I ask her if she wants a drink.

"Yeah, some water or tea would be great." I stand, and head into the kitchen. I stand, and take in the room. There is a fridge, of course, and an island. On the counters are a coffee pot, a toaster oven, and can opener, and nothing else. I open the fridge, and scan the contents, removing a pitcher of water, and some juice.

I open the cupboards, locating some glasses. I pour the water into one glass, and some juice for myself, return the containers to the fridge, and take the glasses back to the living room.

As I hand JJ her glass, she smiles up at me, and I smile back, settling onto the loveseat next to her.

"I think Hotch was right, pulling me off of this case." She looks at me, sideways, and then nods.

"I know. He's smart, a lot smarter than most of us realize, I think, and he knows us, and our limits. He wouldn't have pulled you off if he truly thought you were OK." I nod.

"I know that." She smiles again, and glances back down at the book, flipping through the pages, and then she groans lightly.

"This is incredibly boring. You and sister seem to have one obvious thing in common-you're both too good. No mention of boys, drama, nothing. Not even a gosh, I hate my parents today. It's just a summary of her feelings, written in stream-of-consciousness writing. It's odd." I nod in agreement.

"Yeah, sounds like it."

Just then, the phone rang out.


	4. Chapter 4

Sex, Secrets, and Videotape

Chap. 4-Videotape

1100 Hours

Home of William and Elizabeth Reid

Somewhere in Las Vegas

Spencer

I stand and fly into the hallway, where I had seen a phone sitting on the table, but Dad exit's the room he's been holed up in, cordless phone to his ear. He spots me, and JJ, who was right behind me, and mouths to me.

"Elizabeth." I put my hands up in a timeout signal, and he stops and looks at me.

"Put it on speakerphone." JJ already has her phone out and has dialed Hotch; I can hear his voice booming down the line, telling her to call Garcia immediately. She hangs up with Hotch, and dials Garcia, and I am amused that JJ has her on her speed-dial. I tune into the conversation that Dad and Elizabeth are having, and notice that Elizabeth's voice sounds odd-sort of faraway.

"Daddy? I'm just so scared." I speak over Dad, causing him to grimace at me, but I don't care. He doesn't know what to ask.

"Elizabeth? This is Spencer. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I don't know. My mind is kind of foggy. I am in a basement or something. He's tied me up." I realize that she is drugged, and I continue.

"I need you to just talk as long as you can, OK? One of my coworkers is trying to track your phone signal." I hear her start to sob lightly.

"Ok. I don't have much battery on my cell. He left my bag here, and I was able to get a hold of it."

"Who is "he?"

"Clint. Clint Meyer. He offered me a ride to the Morris's yesterday, and that's all I remember." Just then, I hear Garcia saying that she has the signal pinpointed. At the same time, a loud crash comes from Dad's phone line, and then it goes dead. I turn to JJ.

"Call Hotch or someone. Wherever she is, she's been drugged. She was struggling to speak." JJ nods, and dials Hotch, and relays to him the information. She relays to us that Garcia had called Rossi and gave him the co-ordinates of the cell signal, and he and Seaver were already headed there. I sigh, relieved, and turn to Dad. JJ interrupts.

"Actually, Spence. Mr. Reid. Agent Hotchner has requested that you two return with me to the police department. There's been a development. Apparently, there's a film." I inhale sharply, as we file out of the house. Dad hands me a set of keys.

"Use Elizabeth's car. The police department returned it yesterday." I nod, and gesture to JJ. She nods at me, and takes the keys, and I am glad that she is able to get my gestures. She follows Dad through town back to the police department, and we are both quiet. I think she understands that I want to be left alone.

1300 Hours

Las Vegas PD

Finally, we pull into the parking lot, and Dad rushes into the building. JJ and I are a little slower; we know that when unsubs send in videotape, it is NEVER good.

When we arrive in the meeting room, I am greeted with grim faces. Even the normally scarily-perky Garcia, who is on video chat on Morgan's laptop, is grim. She speaks when she spots me.

"So the scum-sucking maggot of a perp posted a video to ViewTube. It's pretty graphic, but I'll show you if you want. Basically, he's boasting about his kills, and has taped it. Sexual assaults and all." I inhale sharply again, and look at Dad, who looks like he will pass out. I reach out for him, but JJ is faster, and settles him into a chair. It is quiet for a moment, but then Hotch speaks.

"I think it's a good idea for you, Mr. Reid, to sit this one out. I can have Agent Jareau sit with you." JJ nods, and I help Dad to stand up and he follows JJ out of the room. I worry for him, in this moment, because he told me that he was having heart problems. I hope that he is strong enough to handle this. Hotch turns to me, though, and speaks.

"Are you sure you want to be here to see this?" I nod. I suddenly feel as if I have to see this, that there is something I need to see, need to know.

"Yes. Thank you. Did JJ tell you that Elizabeth phoned?" He nods.

"Yes. Rossi and Seaver are going now." I sigh in relief.

"Great, thanks. Let's do this." He looks me over again, and then turns to his computer, clicks a few keys, and brings up a video website. He pushes another button, and suddenly, very disturbing images appear across the screen.

The images are grainy; clearly, he is NOT the next Tarantino, but it's his narrative that is more shocking. He literally says everything that he is doing as he does it, and does it in a tone of voice that suggests that he finds it really hilarious and believable.

We watch in stunned disbelief as a young man strangles the most recent victim-Amina Karshani, who is tied to a column in what appears to be a workshop, and then sexually assaults her as she falls limp and lifeless. While he strangled her, she had been screaming, begging for her life, for him to stop. He just laughed and told her that she deserved that, and that no girl as dirty as she was should live, because she "stained the name of pretty brunettes." I look in horror at Hotch, who is grimacing and has his jaw set tight. Finally, he shows the dump site, and the cold way he simply dropped the body in the early light of dawn, like a heap of trash, and drove off into the distance.

The next scene is a clip of Elizabeth, as he hits her in the back of the head in his car with a large, heavy ceramic coffee mug , and she goes unconscious-likely the reason she couldn't remember what had happened. I watch, almost in a trance, as the boy carefully carries her limp body to an unmarked workshop in a woodsy area. He speaks into the camera as he does, telling the world that this is his granddaddy's workshop, but that the old man had passed the year before, and his mom had forbidden him to go there. He continued, saying that an abandoned building in a familiar place was the best place to hide your prey, because it was harder and less obvious for the police to find. I hear Morgan grunt at that, and I find that I have tensed, and that I really, really want to hit this kid.

The next scene is a close up of Elizabeth, and I am struck again by our resemblance to each other. He laughs again, describing his prey.

"And here is the lovely Liz Reid. Sorry, people, this one is not a cheerleader. But it's even better, because she's smart. It'll be fun to see just how smart she is once she figures out what I am going to do with her. But I am afraid that you must wait, dear audience, because it's school time for me. But don't worry about our little genius here, I have something that will make her stay." I watch as he puts a pill into a bottle of water, and shake it up, before shaking Elizabeth awake.

"Drink this, sweetie. You're OK. This is the basement; you weren't feeling well, don't you remember? You can rest here for a bit, and then I'll call someone to pick you up." She nods, and downs the bottle of water he'd given her before she starts to stand. He shakes his head, all smiles, and puts her firmly back down on a makeshift bed.

"Sleep now, Lizzie. You will be fine. Just a little something for the heartache, OK? Rest. You'll be fine." I watch as Elizabeth's eyes droop, and she falls into the mattress, and he leaves the room. It goes dark as he shuts the door behind him, leaving Elizabeth alone in the dark, damp workshop. The video clicks off, but I notice that there is an update. It is silent for a moment, then I turn to Hotch and speak

"That is quite disturbing. Thank you for asking my father to step out." Hotch looks at me, and then at the now-blank screen, and then back at me. He nods.

"I'm sorry, Reid." I just nod again, and Morgan speaks.

"I'll kill him. Just say the word, and once Rossi and Seaver bring him in, I'll take a clean shot." I shake my head.

"No, I want this kid to have to suffer like these girls did. Prison will do that." Hotch shakes his head.

"Calm down, both of you." Just then, his phone rang. I listen carefully.

"Hey, Rossi. What's up?" Hotch's face changes, and he speaks to Morgan and me.

"There's a situation. Suit up and let's go. Reid, I may regret this later, but I suppose you can come along if you like." It is my first instinct to say yes, but I pause for a moment to really think, and then realize I am OK. I look to Morgan, who just stares back at me. I sigh, but nod.

"I can handle this." Morgan nods to Hotch, and then hands me a vest. I slip into it, zipping it over my shirt, and then I retrieve my weapon and gun belt from my bag, which is sitting in a chair where I'd tossed it when Dad, JJ and I had shown up. We file out of the anteroom, and into the Bullpen, where the JJ is sitting with Dad, who himself is sitting in a chair, his eyes closed, and pale. I look at JJ, and cross to where she is sitting.

"Is he OK?" She looks up me, and shakes her head quietly, motioning for me to follow her. We step away, and she speaks to me.

"I don't think he is. Is there someone I should call?" I shrug.

"His paralegal, I guess. She might know who his doctor is." I give her the number and then head out with Morgan and Hotch.

1400 Hours

Somewhere in Las Vegas

We race across town, heading for the spot where Rossi and Seaver are already waiting. Apparently, Clint Meyer had returned to the workshop, and Seaver had followed him, and now he was holding both her and Elizabeth hostage.

We pull up to a nondescript field behind a large, imitation-Tudor home in the valley, and I spot Rossi immediately. Someone had alerted the PD, and I also see the detectives, in vests, guns pointed at the building. We fly out of the vehicle, and Rossi speaks quickly.

"He has Seaver. Said he'd send her out if we left." Hotch nods.

"Who's the negotiator for the department?"

"Detective Ratcliff. She's having no success." Hotch strides to where the woman is standing, and we follow behind him. I hear him speak to the woman.

"Let me have a go at it. I need you to phone your captain, and pull the SWAT team out of here." The detective looks surprised, and then she looks at me, and Morgan, and we both nod at her.

"Yes, sir." She steps aside, after handing Hotch a megaphone, and turns away. I listen, moving into a huddle with Rossi and Morgan.

"Mr. Meyer, this is FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner. Please, let's talk, like men should. Ask the female agent you have to put you on her cell phone. You have three minutes or we're coming in."

Morgan speaks to Rossi and me.

"Two of us need to take the backside, and someone needs to go in. Especially if Hotch is unsuccessful." Rossi replies.

"You want to be the hero today, kid?" He is speaking to me. I grimace, but shrug.

"I can." They nod.

"That's the plan, then. Get Seaver out first, then the girl." I nod again, and we resume our waiting stances: weapons drawn, ready to fire if needed.

Just then, Hotch's phone rings, and the three of us troop back to where he is standing and listen as he puts the phone on speaker and begins to talk to the boy.

"This is Clint Meyer. I told the police that I would let the bitch go if they left." Hotch, who appears calm and collected, replies.

"I have sent the police away. It is only me, you, three other agents, and Ms. Reid." I can hear Seaver speak to the boy.

"You're outnumbered, kid. Let me go. Let me take Liz with me." I hear what sounds like a slap, and then Clint Meyer speaks again.

"Shut up. This is a man's job. Just be quiet." I glance at Rossi and Morgan, who are both clearly upset, and then back to Hotch. He speaks again.

"Would you let Elizabeth speak to us?"

"No." This time, I hear Elizabeth's voice in the background, sounding as faraway as it did in the first phone call.

"Please, Clint, let me talk to them. I will tell them-it was a misunderstanding. I understand now that you only hid me because you love me. I thought I didn't like you, but I was wrong. Please, please, let me tell them." I smile suddenly; she's doing well, though I doubt she's had any formal hostage training. The phone makes noise, as if someone drops it, and I hear Elizabeth's voice again.

"Did you hear that, Agent Hotchner?" Hotch responds.

"I did. Thank you, Ms. Reid. That was fantastic. Can you try to convince Mr. Meyer to let the agent go?"

"I'll try." I hear the phone go fuzzy again, and then Elizabeth's voice, loudly and clearly.

"Clint, please, let the agent go. I think we should talk, and I don't really want her to hear what I have to say."

"No. She'll tell them what I did to you. They won't understand."

" *I* will tell them. They will understand. Please, won't you let her go?"

I hear a sigh, and I can't tell who it's from. It falls silent, and then a female scream comes as the door to the workshop opens slightly, and Seaver rushes out. Rossi grabs her, and leads her to where Hotch is standing at our vehicle. She sits quietly in the rear passenger's seat, and I can see her struggling to even out her breathing. I hear speak, although I think she's trying to be quiet.

"She asked about Dr. Reid. I think he's drugged her; she's really out of it. But she's calm." I have moved to the car, and I speak to her now.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He hit me." I nod, and notice that Rossi has already called for backup and an ambulance. She continues. "Who is she, Reid?"

"My half-sister."

"Mmm. I'm sorry. Look, if it helps, she's OK, and he seems to be having trouble getting the upper hand. She's strong, physically, and athletic. She's giving him a good run for his money. I think you'll all have better luck just storming in there and pulling him out. Send in Morgan and Rossi; he seems like the type to cower to muscle."

Hotch nods, and looks at me. I shrug. He raises his hands, and motions for Rossi and Morgan to come to him. Once they arrive, he speaks.

"Ok, here's what we're going to do. Rossi, you'll go around back. Morgan and Reid, you'll bust in, and Morgan will make the arrest. Reid, get the child and get the hell out. By then, the ambulances should be here, with the detectives, OK? Keep in touch with each other."

I nod, and draw my weapon, ready to spring. It falls silent as the three of us approach the building. Just then, Hotch's phone rings again, and we stop to listen. I hear Elizabeth's voice again.

"Sir? Clint is trying to run. He has a gun."

"Ok. What kind?"

"A big one, like you'd use for hunting, I suppose. Or killing girls." I smother a chuckle, and listen for Hotch's reply.

"Thank you. Where is he now?"

"In another room. I think it might be a storage room or something. He has a bullet-proof vest, like on TV, too."

"Ok. We have three agents surrounding the building, and the police detectives are here now. We have an ambulance. What we're going to do is let him come outside, and then arrest him. I need you to wait for the signal, and then follow the agent out. I'll send in Spencer, ok?"

"Ok. I can do that. Is the lady agent OK?"

"Yes."

"Good. How is-" the line goes blank, and Hotch gives the time out signal. We gather around him, and see the Detective's gathered around.

"Ok. It sounds like the boy is going to make a run for it; he must realize that we've closed in. I have told Ms. Reid to wait behind, and one of us will go in after her. I want everyone to be on alert, this kid will most likely not go down without a fight. I need Morgan and Reid to go in. Detectives, I need you at their flanks. Rossi and I will go around back. Please ask the EMTs to stay back until I give the signal. If you have to, take a shot, but let's try to get this girl out of here safely. Any questions?"

I shake my head, and notice that the others do the same. I smile at Seaver, as an EMT helps her out of the car and into a waiting ambulance. I hope she is OK, but I don't have time to worry. I take a deep breath, and prepare to follow Morgan. We take our stance, and move forward as two columns; Morgan and I up front, and both detectives behind us. From somewhere, I hear a phone ring, and the police captain's voice, but I cannot make out the words.

We are just outside of the workshop door when we hear a scream, and then a tall, large male figure clad in black jeans and sweatshirt rushes out of the building and heads straight for us, a shotgun in hand. He aims at Morgan, who is able to duck out of the way as Detective Montoya takes the shot. I see the boy fall to the ground, and Derek's voice speaking to me.

"Go get her, Reid. Hotch and Rossi are coming around." I rush into the building, and the darkness startles me for a moment. I fumble around, and then a light comes on, and I come face to face with Elizabeth, who is sitting on a makeshift bed in a corner, feet bound with rope, dirty, but otherwise, apparently OK. I speak.

"Are you OK?"

"I think so." I nod, and move closer to her. I can see that her dress is torn, and her hair is matted. He's hit her, repeatedly, because her lip is swollen, and she has cuts and bruises on her arms. I fish in my pocket for my pocketknife and cut the rope on her feet, showing that she had ligature marks.

"Can you stand up?" She takes a tentative movement, and then I see her stand, and notice that she is quite tall. She smiles at me.

"Thank you, Spencer. Is the female agent OK?"

"Seaver? Yeah, I think she's just in shock, but she seems fine. Let's get you out of here. The EMTs will look you over, and then you could possibly go home."

She nods, and I surprise myself by extending my hand. She takes it, and lets me lead her out of the building, and to a waiting EMT. As we are walking out of the building, she speaks again.

"Is dad OK?"

"Yes. He's back at the police department with another agent, JJ."

"Good. Tell her his cardiologist is Dr. Fisher at University Med." I nod, and say that I will relay this information as the EMT takes her hand and leads her to one of the ambulances. I see Hotch, and head where he is standing, and he nods at me.

"Good work. Seaver is fine; they gave her something for the shock, and are going to keep her overnight for observation. Apparently, the kid hit her, but didn't do much damage. He is critical, though the detective didn't kill him. Your sister will likely be in the hospital overnight, as well. Maybe you should ride along? JJ and your father will be meeting us there." I nod, and reply.

"Thanks. I will ride along, if that's OK." He nods, and I find the ambulance that Elizabeth is in, and poke my head around the door.

"Do you want me to ride along?" She smiles, and replies.

"Sure. Thanks." I climb in, and settle myself onto a bench as the techs secure the doors, and we begin the trek to the hospital.

End of Chap. 4


	5. Chapter 5

Sex, Secrets, and Videotape

Chap. 5-Revelations

University Hospital

Somewhere in Las Vegas

Spencer sits in the waiting room, surrounded by the rest of the team. While the rest of them are waiting for Seaver to be released, as she only had minor, superficial injuries, Spencer was waiting for news about both Seaver and his sister. He sighed loudly, and checked his watch, causing JJ to shake her head.

"It's going to be fine, Spence. The doctor said ten minutes, and it's only been seven." He nods.

"I know." Just then, a blonde figure being wheeled down the hallway caused them all to rise. It was Seaver, being released to the group by an orderly, who passed on instruction to Hotch to have her be as still as possible for the next few hours. Morgan offered to drive her back to the hotel, and they left.

Hotch turned to Spencer, and spoke.

"Hey, Dr. Reid. Do you need me and JJ to stick around?" I shake my head, and he excuses himself to me, and picks up his jacket. JJ speaks to me.

"Please, Spence. Call if you need me." He nods, and assures her he'll be OK, and says that he will meet them tomorrow to fly back to DC. She smiles, and disappears down the hallway, her perfume leaving him a cloud of sweet-scented emotion as she did.

He sits back down in a hard, plastic chair, and looks around the hallway. How many times had his job found him sitting in a hospital just like this? He lost count, but now it was different; today it was his family member, not just another faceless victim, but his _sister. _

He grimaces as he spots his father exiting the elevator, but notices he is followed by a familiar-looking woman. He can't place her, but her auburn locks and green eyes are suddenly fresh in his mind, and he works his mental filo-fax, discovering that this woman is Stacey Jenkins, and is Elizabeth's mother, and that she'd watched him once or twice at the park when his mom would use the bathroom. He stood as they came closer, and his father speaks.

"Hello, Spencer. How is she?" Spencer ignores the woman at his father's side, and replies.

"She's good, all things considered. He hit her a few times, and drugged her. But no indications of sexual assault or major injuries." His father nodded.

"Great. This is Stacey. Stacey Stratford. You probably remember her as Riley Jenkins's mother." Spencer nods, curtly, and the woman smiles. He can see a resemblance between the woman and Elizabeth; while the girl and Spencer have the same coloring and body type, and their father's eyes, her hair is straight like her mothers, and her nose is pert.

"Hello, Spencer. It's nice to see you again, after so many years. Your father tells me that you were quite the hero, rescuing Lizzie from that boy." He shrugs.

"It was a team effort. She's not ready to see anyone just yet. The doctor said she'd come out." They settle into some chairs near Spencer, and he grimaces. He is not ready to talk; to face the betrayal, and instead, he stands up.

"I think I might see if Mom is up for some company. Tell Elizabeth that Agent Jareau will be here later to talk to her." He heads for the exit as the doctor comes out of a long hallway, striding towards him.

"Agent Reid? She's awake." He sighs, but nods, and stops the doctor, speaking to her

and motioning to his father.

"Her parents are here; William Reid and Stacey…something. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work." The doctor glanced towards his father and the woman with him, and sighs.

"Thank you. But she's asking for YOU." He sighed, but nods.

"Well, I'll come back later. Tell her that. After our father leaves. I really have to finish some work, though." The doctor shrugs and says she will, and he leaves.

One hour later

Las Vegas PD

Spencer enters the police building and heads upstairs to meet the gang before he makes a visit to his mother. When they spot him, they all look up in surprise. JJ speaks.

"Spence? Why are you not at the hospital?"

"Elizabeth woke up. Her parents were there; I didn't feel that was the right time to ask her what had happened to her." The others nod and turn back to their work, but JJ stands, crosses to him, and pulls him to a quiet corner.

"Why are you really here?" He considers lying, but thinks better of it, because he knows that while JJ is not a profiler, she is a mother, and thus, knows when someone is lying. He shrugs lightly.

"I didn't think I could handle it-the whole pretending to be a big, happy family thing. Besides, her mother was there, and I can't look at the woman without feeling like my mother was completely betrayed." JJ nods.

"OK, well, I am heading over to the hospital soon; do you want to come with me? Hotch and Derek are turning over the prosecution of the kid to the local PD, so Hotch gave us the evening free." Spencer sighs.

"Ok. I'll come with you. Then would you mind dropping me to see my mom?"

"Of course, Spence. Let me get a few things, and then we'll head out." He nods, and ambles back to the table where the others are gathered, finishing the last bit of the profile before turning the case back over to the local police. He smiles at Seaver.

"Elizabeth says that she hopes you're Ok, and thanks you for your reassurances that she'd be OK." Seaver nods.

"I am glad she's ok. The unsub-well, I never thought I'd say this about a teenaged boy, but he was scary." They all laughed, and then Spencer spoke to Hotch.

"Sir, may I see you for a moment?" The man nods, and leads Spencer to the same corner he'd occupied earlier with JJ.

"What is it, Reid?"

"May I go with JJ back to the hospital? I kind of left abruptly, but I think I should see her again, one more time, before we go home. And then JJ will drop me off to see my mother. I'll be back here later this evening." Hotch considers, but then nods and gives his consent.

"You may ride along with JJ. But please, try to not insert yourself into the questioning, OK?" Spencer nods in understanding, and then returns to the table as Hotch corners JJ and they speak in whispers.

Hotch tells JJ to keep a close eye on Spencer, and to encourage him to bond with the child, as everyone was aware that their resident genius was in pain, and perhaps a close family member could help him begin to heal. She agreed, and before she got Spencer and left, she called Garcia with an idea.

"Hey. Are you super-busy?"

"Not for you, Blondie. What's up?"

"I need a favor. Just a little something for Spencer."

"Name it."

"Make a file for him on his sister-everything that they have common. And arrange for her to spend her winter break in DC."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"Yeah. If push comes to shove, she can stay with us. Will won't mind. And Spencer needs this."

"Ok. But if he freaks, it's all on you."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle it. Oh, and thanks."

"Welcome. Bye." The line goes dead, and JJ shuts her phone and turns to find Spencer. She is certain her plan will work. Or at least, she is very hopeful. She knows she will have to recruit the others, but doesn't figure it'd be too hard. She smiles at Spencer, and speaks.

"You ready?" He nods, and follows JJ out of the building and to a car, clutching his bag and a file that JJ needed. They ride in silence for a bit, until Spencer clears his throat.

"Do you know that she asked for me? That's the real reason I wanted to ride back with you." JJ smiled lightly.

"That's good. Maybe you should take a few days, stay on, and really spend some time with her, you know?"

"Maybe." He falls silent again, and she can't tell if he's thinking, or just being quiet. She speaks again.

"Spence, look, I know it's none of my business, but maybe this is your big chance. I mean, you don't have anyone else, and your father is sicker than he lets on, and when your mom goes-well, I just worry that you might not be able to deal well with it. Having someone to talk to, who shares your genes, I mean-that can help." He shrugs and sighs.

"I know. I was thinking about that, too. I just-I wonder if it's too late. I mean, she's not a kid. She's almost an adult, and I know that she's still young, but I just don't know what she's been told-about me, I mean, and can I work past the whole issue of my father's now-double betrayal?"

"I don't know, Spence. But I do know this-she's a kid. So don't blame her. Don't blame yourself, either. You were like, what, 10 when she was born? It's not your fault, either. Blame the parents, and then talk about it with your shrink, and move on. You have plenty of time. Invite her to DC." Spencer chuckled a little.

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

"Just promise me you'll think about it."

"I will." They pull up to the hospital then, and enter the building. Once they arrive on the pediatrics' ward, Spencer notices that his father is gone, and the same doctor approaches him and JJ.

"Hello again. Elizabeth's parents have left, and she says that she is up for talking to you. But please, don't overwhelm her. Her mental faculties are slow; the drugs he gave her are slow to leave the system." JJ nods, and Spencer follows her down the hall towards the girl's room. Spencer muses that she has a private room, and wonders if it is mere coincidence, or his father's money. He didn't know, and actually, didn't care.

They knock, and a woozy reply comes.

"Come in." They enter the room, and Elizabeth smiles as they approach the bed.

"Spencer!" He smiles, and JJ gives him a pointed look.

"Hi, kid."

"They said you went back to work. I was hoping you'd come by before you went home. I want to talk." He nods, and then Elizabeth turns to JJ. "The doctor said you wanted to talk to me about what Clint did to me?" JJ nodded.

"Yes."

"Ok. Spencer, could you excuse for a little bit? You don't want to hear this." He nods, and glances at JJ, who smiles.

"Ok. I think I'll go get some coffee anyway. I have some phone calls to make."

"Thanks." He smiled at Elizabeth as he left the room, shaking his head. She turned to JJ, and smiled.

"Agent Jareau, right?"

"Yes. It's just a couple of things. How did it start?" Liz adjusted herself in the bed, and sighed.

"He offered me a ride to the Morris's after the funeral. I had just turned down an offer to go to breakfast with this boy that I actually like. But I wanted to go see Mrs. Morris, tell her that I was so sorry, and that I was glad she'd let me speak at the memorial. When I got into Clint's car, though, that's when I realized that something was wrong. He immediately locked the doors, and was driving really fast. He hit me, and that's all I can remember. I came to in that barn or whatever it was." JJ nods.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Just that I was stupid for thinking that John-that's the boy I like-liked me back, and that I was too pretty for him, but I was starting to go "bad", whatever that means, and he needed to teach me a lesson about staining the name of brunettes or something."

"Yeah, we think he lost someone close to him that was brunette, and then the death of his grandfather set him off."

"I remember the girl. Her name was Amber. A colleague of Dad's handled the wrongful death case." JJ raised her eyebrows.

"Did you know her?"

"Not well, but we went to the same middle school."

"Ok. Can you tell me what happened after you came to?"

"Yes. Clint had me tied up; at first, it was my arms and my feet, and then later, just my feet, which how Spencer found me. I was bleeding from my head, and I remember that there was a makeshift bed in the building. I thought he was going to, you know…" JJ nods lightly again.

"But then he just started talking to me. It was totally weird. He was rambling on, not making any sense at all. He said that he was sorry, but he had to kill me to make a point, and that he loved me and always would. He also said that he didn't mean to kill Amina, but she had seen him dragging Reagan's body to the field, and so he had to kill her before she went to the police. It was after that that he started filming me, and then he got violent. I saw him chatting with some people online, and it seemed to fuel him, you know, make it more fun or something." JJ nods again, scribbling furiously, while the tape recorder she'd set up clicked off.

"Darn it. Do you mind waiting while I replace the batteries?"

"Of course." JJ nods, and excuses herself. She spots Spencer in the hallway, sitting in a hard plastic chair, and speaks to him.

"Hey, Spence. She's doing great, and we're almost done. You could probably come in now; we got past the personal stuff." He nods, aware that JJ was going to be asking the girl about a possible sexual assault and he hadn't wanted to hear about it.

"Ok." He stood and followed JJ back into the girl's room, and she smiled up at him.

"Hey, Spencer. Thanks for waiting. You can come in, if you want." He nods, and settles into a visitors chair as JJ resumed her perch on a bench under a window. She turns back on the recorder, and speaks to Liz.

"Ms. Reid, can you explain what happened when Agent Seaver showed up?"

"Yeah. She came barreling in, balls to the wall, and he went berserk. He had just finished taping the part where he'd strangled me, and then gave me the water, and was heading for school, or so he said. Then, this random blonde busts in, gun poised, all rough and tough, but he took her down really fast. Like I said, he was really mad. He grabbed a shovel, and just hit her with it. She fell like a china doll in an earthquake." JJ sighed, but nodded.

"Ok. Just a few more. You're doing great. When he gave you the water, did he tell you that he was drugging you?"

"No. But I could tell, because I felt woozy pretty fast, but I didn't make the connection until later." JJ continues again.

"Finally, I need to ask you about the raid. When the FBI showed up, what happened?"

"Well, Clint told me that he was going to let the agent go if I agreed to tell you people that I was lying, basically, and that I loved him and we would go away somewhere and live together, I suppose. Then, he went off into another room-I couldn't see what he was doing-then he came out with a gun and a vest, like I told your agent. Then I saw the door open, heard gunshots, and saw Spencer." JJ nods, satisfied, and stands.

"Thank you, Ms. Reid. That's really helpful. What is going to happen now is that we are going to turn the case over to the local police, because Mr. Meyer didn't die of his injuries, at least not yet, and you will likely be called to testify, as will the agents involved. Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you. I think I'm OK. Can I talk to Spencer alone for just a minute, though?" JJ smiles, nods, and leaves the room, carrying her notebook with her. Spencer looks at Elizabeth, and speaks.

"Can I get you something?"

"No. I just wanted to say thanks. I bet this was awkward for you. But you took care of me, and you didn't have to." Spencer inhaled sharply, and then smiled lightly before responding.

"You're welcome. It's all part of the job."

"Yeah, but this is different. Look, Dad is sick, so I hope you spend some time with him before you leave. If you're interested, we usually have some kick-ass parties at Christmas time. Maybe you could come?"

"Maybe. I actually was going to see my mother before I left."

"Good idea. You know, I met your mother once."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I was twelve, and I was home sick from school, and it was a Dad weekend, so he took me with him on a Friday morning. Then he took me to a museum and out for lunch."

"You were sick?"

"Well, I had women's problems."

"I see." He grinned, suddenly realizing that he wanted to know more about the girl, but just then a voice interrupted their exchange. Elizabeth looked up and smiled excitedly.

"Hey, John. Come on in. This is Spencer. He's one of the FBI agents, and also is my brother." John entered the room, clutching a manila folder, and smiled at Spencer, who looked him over suspiciously. Liz continued. "Spencer, this is John. We were supposed to go to the Homecoming dance together, but now I can't, because I am stuck in here. You didn't have to come by, John. You should be at the dance, having fun." He smiled.

"I went to the game. Remember, the compromise? Anyway, you were voted Queen. The whole school took a vote, and you're going to get the crown when you come back." Spencer raised an eyebrow, and interrupted.

"Queen?"

"Yeah, I was voted Homecoming Queen, apparently." Spencer chuckled, and John continued.

"Anyway, I brought your homework. The blonde woman outside said that I could only be here for a few minutes; I guess they're monitoring who you come in contact with." Liz nodded.

"Thanks for bringing my work. I can't let my GPA slip."

"Nope. We need a valedictorian whose not a total nerd. Anyway, if you're free Sunday, and feeling OK, maybe we could hang out. My mom said you could come to my house, and we can watch a movie. I just got the Star Wars trilogy in Blue Ray." Liz smiles.

"We'll see. That would be fun. Thanks again, and I'm sorry for spoiling your plans." John smiled and shook his head.

"I'm just glad you're OK. I'm sorry you had to miss Amina's funeral, though. It was nice. I guess I should let you rest, though."

"Thanks, John. I'm glad you stopped by. I really will think about Sunday." The kid smiled and waved as he ducked out of the room, leaving the folder on the counter by the door. Spencer, who had witnessed the exchange with a mix of amusement and bewilderment, for he had discovered some interesting things. He rose then, and spoke to her.

"Liz, I should leave you alone now so you can rest. Dad said he'd come by later, after work, but your mother returned to Utah already. I think Agent Rossi will be your detail this evening, and then the police will take over until you are released, OK? If you need anything, let Rossi know, and he'll call me, OK?"

"Ok. Thanks. And thanks for being cool with John stopping by."

"Of course. I'm sorry you had to miss your dance. He seems like a nice kid, though."

"That's ok. There's more dances. And he is nice. Much nicer than Clint Meyer."

"Can I ask just one more question?"

"Of course."

"How did you know to play along with Clint Meyer?"

"I don't know. Instinct, I guess. It just kind of came to me. Why?"

"It's just-that's part of what they teach you in the FBI academy. You have potential, if you ever decide on a career in law enforcement."

"Thanks, but I am leaning towards engineering. Or maybe Physics." Spencer raised his eyebrows again, but nods.

"Both of those sound excellent. Like I said, I should be going. I think JJ is done with you."

"Ok. Bye, Spencer."

"Good bye, Elizabeth." He turned and exited the room, quietly crossing over to stand next to JJ, who patted his arm, and smiled.

"How'd it go?"

"Good, I think."

"Good, I'm glad. Let's go. It's getting late, and you'll probably want to see your mom before dinner, right?"

"Yeah." They silently exit the hospital, Spencer lost in thought about his sister, and JJ annoyed at Hotch's insistence that the hospital conduct a rape kit on the child, who had already been through so much, so after she dropped Spencer off, she turned around and headed for the hospital.

2200 Hours

Somewhere in Las Vegas

Spencer had returned from his visit with his mother feeling a little better about the day. He didn't ask her about his father, or the girl, but had been surprised when his mother brought up his father. She'd asked him how his father was, and if his daughter was OK, because she had heard that the girl had been in trouble. He had told her that he thought everything was OK, and that he'd simply come to Vegas to work a different case. He knew that his father visited his mother occasionally still, and that was likely how she knew about the murders.

Now, he settled himself into the bed in the room he was sharing with Morgan, and pulled out an envelope that Detective Montoya had given him. It was from his father, and he was dying to know what was in it.

As he opened the envelope, a letter fell out, marked simply "Spencer" and inside was some photographs, a copy of his father's will and last wishes, and Elizabeth's personal information. He opened the letter, and began to read.

"_Dear Spencer,_

_I want to first apologize to you for messing this up. I had intended for the meeting with Elizabeth to go better than it did, and I realize that I am at fault for that, and for never telling you from the outset. Please know, however, that there is room in a father's heart for multiple children, and you'll always be the only son I've ever had. I have loved you and your mother since the very first day, and I will never stop. _

_I have included some photos that Elizabeth found in a box last week; I think you'll remember them. Do you remember when we visited Reno before your Uncle Daniel died? These photographs are of that weekend-you were five, I remember, and your mother was so gorgeous-you two were always so inseparable, and sometimes, I just felt like the man behind the scenes. _

_Finally, you might be surprised to find a copy of my will and final wishes, but being that you are my surviving relative, I think it's best if you handle my personal affairs, as I don't know how long I have left. It's a heart condition this time, but if your sister brings around any more boys, I think it might be the death of me yet. I just hope that you are willing to execute these things; you are the smartest person I know, and thus, I think you are up to the task. Nothing needs to be decided right away, but soon. I did include Elizabeth's personal information, as well, just in case. Please, Spencer, consider a relationship with her. It's not too late, and she needs the influence of someone besides me in her life. _

_Thank you again, Spencer, and remember that no matter what happens, I am your father, and you do have people who love you and think of you everyday. _

_Sincerely, _

_Dad_

Spencer folded the letter, and replaced it in the envelope before fishing out the photos. From the next bed, he could feel Morgan eyeing him. He looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"It's a letter from my father." Morgan shrugged.

"Great. I am glad you two are finally at least talking." Spencer made a face, but nodded.

"Yeah. He's not so terrible, I guess." Morgan chuckled, and turned back to the book in his hand. Spencer glanced at the photographs he now held, and smiled. He DID remember the trip; it had been very warm that year, and he grimaced at his outfit, wondering why parents chose to dress their children like dweebs. He was wearing red walking shorts, a red-and-blue striped t-shirt, and white sneakers. His large framed glasses belied an innocence that he didn't even have back then, but he realized suddenly that he and his mother had he exact same smile. He smiled again, and replaced the photo in the envelope. The next one was of him alone, in the same outfit, eating an ice cream cone.

Finally, the last one was a candid shot of the family; his mother was standing next to his father, and he was in front of both of them, and he remembered that some woman had come by, saw the family, and offered to take their picture together. He replaced these photos in the envelope, decided he would look at the paperwork later, and stood to place the package in his go bag, and excused himself to Morgan, heading for the same diner where he and JJ had had their little talk the first night.

End of Chap. 5. I think there should only be one more! Thanks for the lovely reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

1700 Hours

Home of Spencer Reid

Somewhere in VA

Spencer had been home for a few hours now, and had run a load of laundry, watered his plants, and gathered his mail. Now, he sat quietly on his couch, and the silence was deafening. His father and Elizabeth were not loud people, but being a teenager, Liz was active, and there was always something zany going on there. He stands, and locates his laptop from his desk where he'd set it to charge, and taps out an email to Liz.

"Liz,

I'm home, landed safely. Flight was good. I had a great time this weekend; thanks. I hope we can do it again soon. Have fun on your date tomorrow; John seems like a very nice kid.

Always,

Spencer."

He signs off, and shuts down the machine, makes dinner, and prepares to return to work the next day, making sure that the gift he'd bought for Henry is tucked into his bag to give to JJ. He'd gone shopping with Liz in Vegas, and he'd selected a stuffed Triceratops for the boy, which Liz said might be a little advanced, but Spencer had liked it.

Finally, he climbed into bed, weary from the awkwardness of the weekend, and fell asleep.

A few years later

1800 Hours

Home of Spencer Reid

Somewhere in VA

Spencer pulled his mail out of his box, and hurried upstairs to his apartment. He was happier these days; he saw Liz more often now that she had decided to attend school at Princeton, which they discovered could be driven to and from in under one day.

He put his work things away, and settled down on the couch to sort the mail-mostly bills, some advertisements, and a letter from his mom. But it was the large, ivory colored envelope that caught his eye instead. He turned it over in his hands, and smiled, tearing into it. It was a wedding invitation, for Liz and John were still going strong, and he was happy for them.

He still occasionally thought about that week in Vegas, and how, if Clint Meyer hadn't decided to kill girls when he did, he might never have learned that he had a sister until it was far too late to count to either one.

He had wished that he could've known her longer; that he could've been there when she first started brining boys home, and for her dances and concerts and debate tournaments, but he had come to terms with the fact that he couldn't and wasn't, and so he had vowed to make it up to her for the rest of their lives.

As he continued with his evening, making sure he fed Mouse, who he now had guardianship of, since Liz couldn't keep him at school, he realized he was lucky. Just that week, they'd had a case of two siblings who were foster youth, and were kidnapped by a relative. They'd been able to solve the case, but what struck Spencer most was that the children, aged 14 and 10, were able to hang on because of each other. He knew that it was because of that special bond that siblings had, and he was glad to be counted in that group.

The End (for now, at least).


End file.
